Broken Wings
by n1h1l4dr3m
Summary: 7th Year for Draco, who's trying to piece his life back together after The Great War. Charlie is dealing with some familial drama. Their two lives cross, and they discover that not only do they need each other, but that they love each other, too. RATED MATURE! (for language and consensual adult behavior)
1. First Day Back

Headmistress McGonagall sighed and with a flick of her wand turned her stiff backed chair into a comfy armchair. _Might as be comfortable for this. _She thought to herself. With firmly pursed lips she grabbed the stack of homework papers and a mug of tea. After The Great War it was decided that all grades would repeat; most 7th Years were nowhere near ready for their NEWTs and even fewer 5th Years were prepared for their OWLs. A few, of course, were going to attempt them midterm, but she highly doubted there would be a single passing mark amongst the lot, except perhaps Hermione Granger. The Carrows had done little in the way of education. Despite assuming the role of Headmaster, which everyone knew would never belong to anyone but the late Dumbledore, McGonagall continued to teach. She kept the 7th Year Transfiguration students, and was honestly relieved when her class size this year dropped to a simple 6 students. Her workload as Headmistress was exhausting—she doubted she could handle anymore than those serious about taking their NEWTS. From Gryffindor, she had the bright Granger child, the infamous Potter, and his ever-faithful sidekick, Ron Weasley. She also had Longbottom, despite his Grandmother's protests. Surprisingly she had a Slytherin. She had noticed over the years that most Slytherins pursued law, or business, and usually did not need Transfiguration. This year, though, she had the Malfoy lad. Had not Dumbledore gone to great lengths to protect and save him, she would have dismissed him out of hand. She had Luna Lovegood, who, in McGonagall's opinion was a clear danger to herself while attempting transfiguration. The girl was bright, as a Ravenclaw obviously, but she lacked the necessary focus. At least Lovegood made up for it with her sheer determination. Her final student, and probably the one with the best natural talent next to Granger, was Cho Chang. Unfortunately, her drive was lacking.

When Headmistress McGonagall gave the class homework on their first day back in class, she had joked that it was to uphold her reputation as the meanest professor. But, really, she wanted them to write a short essay to explain to her why each student wanted to continue this particular course of study. Potter had simply written, "After this year, I feel the only career choice available to me is Auror" Grinning, McGonagall write in tight, neat script, "Thank you for the honesty, let's correct the brevity." She grabbed the next roll and had she not immediately recognized the handwriting, the simple fact that the parchment was filled front and back in tiny, neat print, was a dead giveaway that the author was Granger. She read with mild amusement, noting that Granger had, as usual, done a complete analysis of how Transfiguration was helpful in all career fronts, how that applied to her career choices specifically, how it would be useful in the home and urban environments, and finally, how she had seen the practical implementation of transfiguration bear out in school and in war. "Granger, I wanted to know why you wanted to continue in Transfiguration, not why everyone should continue. Excellent points, nonetheless. I will grant credit for citing specific references to how you have benefitted from my favorite subject. This is not a requirement for Law, however, and I fully understand if you do not wish to test at the end of the year. It is optional. Please, let's not have a repeat of 5th year's OWLs induced stress levels! I have confidence in you." She added the last with a slight eye-roll. She knew how insecure Granger was about her grades and education. She continued through the essays: the rest were short, a few sentences, and much like Harry Potter's. She was about to pick up Draco Malfoy's, the last parchment, when she heard a tentative knock on the door. Phineus began yelling through his painting about the gall of someone to dare interrupt such an important witch at so late an hour. "Silence, Phineus. That is quite enough." Then, loudly, "Enter."

"Good evening, Headmistress. My apologies for interrupting your evening." The student stood still, his eyes on his feet. All irritation at being interrupted quickly vanished when McGonagall peered over the parchment and recognized the white-blonde hair—really, that's all she could see of the kid—that and his disheveled black schoolrobes. Her lips tightened into an even thinner line when she took in his unkempt, gaunt appearance. "Come, Master Malfoy. What may I help you with this evening?"

Draco Malfoy edged closer to her desk, still not meeting her eyes. She rose, a paperweight in her hand. She walked to the front of her desk and tossed it to the ground. Simultaneously she flicked her wrist and transfigured it into fluffy armchair to match her own. "Sit down, Master Malfoy. Would you like coffee or tea?"

"Neither, ma'am. I'm really very sorry for bothering you." Draco hunched down in the chair. His slender fingers picked a thread in his wrinkled robes. McGonagall noted that he hadn't shaved, and his hair appeared greasy—this was not the proud and haughty student of two years ago. Normally, McGonagall would have brusquely demanded that any interrupting student get to the point. However, Dumbledore had made her take The Unbreakable Vow to protect this wayward child as her son. He and Severus had both left her vivid memories that she often replayed through the Pensieve. They had filled her in, entirely, on how he'd been forced to take the Dark Mark, the untenable positions Voldemort had repeatedly forced upon him, the desperation that filled him, and how the last year had nearly destroyed him. He was a broken young man, and society was not forgiving. She was certain that the other students were bullying him; most still blamed him for the deaths of Dumbledore and Snape. He regularly sported a few bruises. No doubt the other students were exacting revenge for the last year of The Great War, but until she caught them or he gave her a name there was relatively little she could do. Lucius Malfoy had taught his son to define himself by wealth, power, and societal standing, and with the end of the Great War his sense of identity had been shattered. The other Slytherins would not even allow him to sit at their table in the Great Hall. McGonagall now felt pity, instead of her usual irritation with a student she deemed irresponsible.

"It's no problem. I was about to read your letter to me on why you wish to continue with my class. Would you prefer to tell me, or should I read it?" She flicked her wand and silently sent a message to the kitchens for a house elf to kindly bring refreshments.

"I thought it was just an essay?" Draco lifted his gaze up for a split second.

"I just wanted to see why you all are in my class, so I can tailor my curriculum to each student. I actually don't grade my senior students. It is simply a preparation for the NEWTS. At this point in your education, that's all that matters.

"Oh." The Headmistress raised her eyebrows and decided to wait him out. The child was obviously troubled, and would eventually tell her why he came. Malfoy was, if nothing else, determined. If he plucked up the courage to disturb her at, a quick glance at the clock confirmed it was almost midnight, then she knew he'd eventually get around to talking. Either that, or she was going to dock points from Slytherin for his prowling the halls after curfew. The silence between them was broken as the house elves showed up with scones and cookies, tea and coffee, and some mints.

McGonagall grabbed a fresh cup of tea and sat down behind her desk. She picked up his parchment and adjusted her eyeglasses. She noticed Draco finally looked up at her, dark circles under his eyes, and she tried to suppress a smile. She was right to wait for him.

She read his essay. It was moderate in length, and well written. He had obviously put a lot of thought into this paper. However, the content surprised her so much that she had to reread it, twice, and verify for a third time that it was in fact Draco's name at the top of the essay and not Lovegood's or Longbottom's. The elegant green calligraphy had been a trademark of the Malfoy family, though; she remembered the emerald script from grading Lucius' papers, and studying with Abraxas Malfoy in the library when she was a 4th Year.

She set the essay down on her desk and picked up her quill. There was a long moment of deliberation, while she ignored Malfoy's anxious shifting in front of her. She wrote with purposeful care, "Of course you may switch your career path to Healer. Your scores in OWLS were outstanding across the board. Would you like for me to arrange extra lessons with Professor Sprout, and speak with Madam Pomfrey about assisting her in the Medical clinic? The only other concern for Healers happens to be potions, and I feel you're more than prepared for that NEWT, although another year of study, which you're already taking, wouldn't hurt." She turned the essay over and folded her hands serenely in her lap. She still refused to speak. Malfoy had tried desperately to read what she had written on his essay, and that made her smile.

The silence was starting to overwhelm Malfoy. He finally blurted out, "That's why I'm here, Headmistress. I want to know if I can change from Law to Healer. My father—" Malfoy made a small choking noise and cut himself off mid sentence.

"What about dear Master Lucius?" McGonagall reached for her tea.

"He expects me to take a posting in the ministry, to replace him. He feels it is how we are to overcome the past year. His instructions to me were explicit. But, he's, he's…He's in Askaban, now." Malfoy said the last very quietly, as if Lucius Malfoy's public sentencing was not common knowledge.

"And your mother?"

"Headmistress, after the past year, I'm not really overly concerned with obeying my parents. That ended me up with the Dark Mark, got Uncle Sev killed, and lost my family most of our fortune, and were it not for Potter's everlasting savior complex and his testimony at my trial, I would have received the Dementor's kiss. I still don't quite understand how I walked away from that trial with a completely clean slate." Now that Malfoy was getting worked up, and emotional, his voice was filled with the confidence she recognized from his youth. He even had that slight sneer on his lips.

"Before I give you back your essay, and my answer, Malfoy, I wish to know why you want to be a Healer? Your essay, I believe," she picked it up and quickly scanned it, "only indicated you wanted to take Transfiguration so that you could become a Healer. You didn't go into depth explaining why the career path change."

"Isn't it obvious, Headmistress? Maybe I could've saved Uncle Sev, if I had known. What a terrible way to die, that poison, he was in so much agony…Headmistress, I mean, I have hurt so many people. Maybe this way-" Draco cut himself off again, and stared down at his hands clenched tightly in his lap.

McGonagall furrowed her eyebrows and regarded Draco over her spectacles. "You aren't responsible for Severus' death, dear child. I think that your reasons are noble. I will give you a week to decide if this is really what you want to do, and I am willing to address the issue with your mother, should you want me bring her to the point of reason. She never qualified in any of her NEWTS, so she should be quite proud of you, no matter your career field, as you've already surpassed her academic knowledge."

Malfoy straightened in the fluffy armchair with a start. "Really?"

McGonagall gave him a wicked little grin. "Oh, I have stories about both your parents, and your grandparents, in fact, that would make you look at them in a whole new light. Here, let me write you a pass so Filch doesn't harass you." And with that, she handed him back his essay and dismissed him from her office.

Draco Malfoy stopped at the door. "Headmistress?"

She set down her tea and gave him her undivided attention once more.

"I just wanted to say I'm sorry. And thanks. Thanks for this chance."

McGonagall nodded once. "Malfoy, perhaps next week sometime you could stop by, again. I would like to make sure this new course load is suitable to you. I'll give you a new class schedule tomorrow after Transfiguration."

For the first time since The Sorting, the Headmistress saw him smile.


	2. Opportunities Begin and a Small Success

Headmistress McGonagall remained silent while Madame Pomfrey paced back and forth in her office. Her speech was punctuated with the periodic wave of her hands, as if she needed to use her hands to make an exclamation mark.

"Ma'am, he's a natural! He's got a natural grasp on spell reversal! Just needs some more practice, and the area that has impressed me the most is his grasp of antidotes. That is the hardest for any Healer, because so many potions can be mixed together to create a poison, and to create the antidote you begin getting into some heavy Potion Theory, very advanced stuff…I list him a few symptoms and he's got an encyclopedic knowledge of what could be wrong. His diagnostic skills are on par with Senior Apprentice Healers. I would like to see if we can send him to St. Mungo's on the weekends, or in the evenings. Even though he hasn't tested yet, why can't he work as a Junior Apprentice Healer? Or an Assistant to a Junior Apprentice?"

"Poppy, I just don't know…" McGonagall was very hesitant.

"Look, I'll accompany him."

"Poppy, he needs parental approval to leave Hogwart's grounds. Even if it is for academic enhancement."

"Okay, we'll get it."

"It isn't just that. I don't have any sway at Saint Mungo's."

"Minerva! Did you forget that I used to be the Director of Healers and I still sit on the Board of Members at St. Mungo's? And, did you forget who donated enough money to build not one, but two, new wing additions to the hospital?" Poppy Pomfrey placed both hands on the desk and leaned in, and almost growled, "Lucius. Lucius Malfoy practically owns two-thirds of Saint Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies. Now, if his son, who happens to be the head of the Malfoy family, given his father's state of indisposition, wants to get some hands-on training, I don't see why the staff at Saint Mungo's would have a problem with that."

"Poppy Pomfrey!" Headmistress McGonagall interjected sharply. "I give you permission to look into it, or I will, if you would prefer. However. You are forgetting yourself. The Malfoy family no longer has any influence in anything. At all. Were it not for Snape's will, Draco would have nothing. The ministry seized all of their assets until Lucius' sentencing is served, or did you read any of the Daily Prophet's scandalous stories following the persecution of the Malfoys? They were, perhaps, the family in most deep with Voldemort, and yet, got off with the lightest sentencing. The Wizarding Community has not forgiven, nor forgotten. Lucius will be released from Azkaban at the end of the year, and to be completely blunt, he does not want his son to be a Healer. I practically bullied Narcissa into allowing her son to choose his own course of study. I suspect this won't continue in the second semester. So, go ahead. Call Healer Heilen and request permission for this bright student, the only one who wishes to pursue healing in this graduating class, in fact, to get some hands-on training. Let me know what he says, and I will talk to the Malfoys. If that is all, you're dismissed."

Madam Pomfrey looked a bit taken aback at the brusque dismissal, but feeling she had scored, if not a complete victory, at least a temporary compromise, she headed back to the Hospital wing.

Draco Malfoy was waiting outside the Headmistress' office, and Madam Pomfrey almost ran into him. "Oh, Malfoy, what are you doing here?"

"Headmistress summoned me." Draco started to blush a little, but decided that as Madam Pomfrey was his favorite professor this year, and he was her only student, it wouldn't matter if he told her, "She meets with me once a week. I think to make sure I'm doing okay. It hasn't been a good year for me. And I think Uncle Sev made her promise."

Madam Pomfrey straightened her wimple and said "Oh. Well, carry on with you, then. I trust I will see you this afternoon?"

Draco grinned, "Oh, yes ma'am, of course. I have a few questions about the reading assignment you gave me on Florence Nightingale."

Madam Pomfrey patted his shoulder and said "Good. This afternoon, then."

Draco stepped into the staircase and knocked on the Headmistress' door.

"Enter!"

"Headmistress."

"Oh, you're early, Master Malfoy, how are you?" McGonagall tossed a quill to the floor. This had become routine between them: Draco must transfigure whatever item McGonagall chose into a chair. Sometimes she had to fix his attempts, but recently he'd gotten quite good. Last week, it was a paperclip, and he was quite proud of the collapsible metal chair he'd created. A feather, though, he'd be lucky if he didn't accidentally turn that into a pillow, or worse, a bed. He cocked his head, and before he could flick his wrist, the Headmistress asked, "Would you like some theoretical instruction before you begin?"

"Yes, ma'am. I'm afraid I'm going to make that into a bed." He glanced up at McGonagall, hoping she wouldn't mistake his comment for impertinence. Since the start of the school year, Malfoy had developed a very strong need for her approval. He wasn't sure why; the best explanation he could come up with was that MacGonagal was one of the few who refused to treat him differently despite his actions during The Great War. Also, she was the strongest tie he had left to his Uncle Severus Snape. He still blamed himself for his uncle's death. Snape sacrificed everything for his nephew, his freedom by Narcissa's command, his soul when he chose to take Dumbledore's life instead of forcing Draco to do so, and his life when he stood up to The Dark Lord in protecting Draco. Draco felt acutely how undeserved his uncle's sacrifices had been.

"Well, that's exactly what I was hoping you'd do, Malfoy, because that shows you understand the elemental concept of Transfiguration. You have grasped, and mastered, the fact Transfiguration will only bend to similar material. The exception being live animals, which really isn't an exception because you are using the life force. We covered that in years 3 and 4, right?"

"Yes, ma'am. That's how you're able to turn a feathery bird into a goblet, which would otherwise be impossible from a feather."

"Exactly. Okay, now, the second step, which is advanced Transfiguration, is, well, let me confirm this, you said you would make it a bed. This is because it is a feather, and it would turn into a feather bed. Yes? That was your logic?" Draco nodded.

"Okay, yes, that's the logic I wanted you to have. Moving on, now, to this feather. We want it to transfigure into a chair. Close your eyes and imagine a chair, any chair. Describe it to me."

Draco felt foolish, but complied. "Um, high wing backed, dark green, dark stained maple legs, the M, you know, the Malfoy M from our, crest, in the center. Ornate carving on the legs and matching design in the sides of the leather."

She asked, "This is a specific chair, at your home?"

"Yes, ma'am. Father's. In the office."

"Excellent. Okay, now you said several different elements, maple, green fabric, the crest, and the carvings. Hold that image in your head. I'm going to describe something else and I want you to imagine this new item as I speak."

"Yes, ma'am." Draco shut his eyes and took a deep, audible breath.

"Imagine a bed, a feather bed. It is a four-poster bed. It is heavy, dark stained maple. There are green curtains around it. The sheets and pillows have ornate embroidery on them. There is a Malfoy M, from the crest-" At this, Draco took a deep, hissing breath, but otherwise remained completely still. He still held his wand loosely between his thumb and forefinger.

"Ah. You follow now."

"Yes, ma'am."

"Excellent. Now, transfigure, mentally, that feather into that bed I just described. And then transfigure it, mentally, into the chair you're imagining. Now, with a swish and a swirl, transfigure the feather directly into the chair."

McGonagall leaned back into her chair, holding her breath. This was the only concept the 7th Years must master. It was so difficult for all of them; it often took more than a whole semester for them to develop an understanding of how all elements were related. The last two months prior to NEWTS was simply spent on proficiency. Granger, of course, had it within a week. McGonagall would give her three objects and odd transfiguration pairing instructions, at the start of each class, and then allow her to use the period to study for other subjects. It really was unfair for the rest of the students, but Granger was the smartest witch of her age and she had reached the same level of Transfiguration knowledge as McGonagall. She just had to work on proficiency. In fact, McGonagall was expecting Granger to inquire about her Animagus form any day now. McGonagall rarely had students reach Animagus levels, but she was holding out for Granger, Malfoy, and Weasley to have mastered the current concepts by the end of the semester. If so, she could start them on Animagus training and it not impede their NEWT studies.

Draco sat still for a minute longer, gathering his thoughts and centering himself. Without an audible spell, he purposefully moved his wand through the air.

MacGonagal couldn't help it—she let out a squeal of surprise and joy. "Malfoy! You've got it!" Draco grinned, and walked around the new chair a few times to admire it before sitting down. He wore a very smug and satisfied smirk.

"Was this all you wanted to see me about, Headmistress? Helping me with my abysmal efforts at transfiguration?"

"Oh, no. Not abysmal in the slightest. But, the reason I asked you here today was because Madam Pomfrey wants you to get some hands-on training at Saint Mungo's. I must have parental consent, and she must escort you. She's offering to take you Friday through Saturday evening. She's working the end out with the hospital. I was going to ask you how you wished me to proceed with your mother. Or if you wished me to do that at all—I could just give you the consent form and let you handle it." McGonagall leaned back into her chair and somberly regarded Draco Malfoy.

"I'd like to try to ask her first."

"Okay. Here's the form. And, here's the keys to your Uncle Severus's old office. I'm going to give them to you with a few words of admonishment: Severus's diary is in there. I have not read it, but he asked that I make sure you have it when you come of age. That's this weekend, yes?" Draco's ducked his head to hide the tears that threatened to drop, and he nodded.

"Also, his will stated that everything in that office is yours. I'm not going to make you clear it out, until you graduate. There is a very extensive, and very expensive, collection of Potion Ingredients, and all of his books. Also, some of his robes, and miscellany. Now, you should be warned that if I find out that you're using his office as a snogging hide-away, or that you're using his ingredients to brew unacceptable potions, Polyjuice, Liquid Luck, Sudden Death, Firewiskey, whatever, I will destroy everything and lock you out off his office. Students should not have access to 90% of what he's got squirreled away in those cabinets. Understood?"

"Yes, ma'am. Thank you. Thank you!" Draco jumped up and grabbed the keys and Consent Form from her desk. As he practically tore out of the office, Headmistress Minierva McGonagall smiled. This was one student that she would have written off had not Albus and Severus taught her one final lesson about life, love, and forgiveness.


	3. Of Tutors and Bullies

"Hey, first years, wait a second! You, damn, wait up, Fray, FRAY, damn it, Daniel Fray!" Changing his stride into a full-out sprint, he caught up to the cluster of first years that were trying to escape him. He grabbed Daniel by the back of his collar and spun him around. He looked down at Daniel's big, fear filled eyes, and wondered if that's how small he'd appeared to 7th years when he first started at Hogwarts. 11 years to his 18, he could've probably picked up all six of these kids and stuffed them in a locker—without using magic—if he had wanted. In fact, the Draco of two years ago had done that.

"Hey, the rest of you scram. I'm talking to Danny-boy, here." Draco felt slightly sick at the look of fear on Daniel's face as his friends took off running down the hall. It wasn't any better than the looks of disgust that the 6th and 7th years, and adults in town, gave him. In fact, it was worse. The Dark Lord gave Draco an intensive study in fear, and the roiling helplessness sometimes still filled his gut at night. He still regularly woke up in a cold sweat, grinding his teeth and shaking.

Draco shook his head and knelt down to look at Daniel eye-to-eye. "Look kid, I'm not gonna hurt you. Don't be scared."

Daniel backed up until he hit the stone wall. Draco edged forward and grabbed his collar, hating himself for trapping the kid. But if this was the only way to get Daniel's attention, then he was gonna do it. "Look, I'm only harassing you because Professor Slughorn asked me to, okay? I'm not gonna beat you up or cruiatus you, or, I don't know what you heard about me, probably a lot of things that were true, and probably a lot more that weren't….Aurgh." Draco let him go and leaned back. He ran his hands through his hair, frustrated that he couldn't even talk to an eleven year old without feeling judged.

"Is it true you are a Death Eater?"

"I was. I'm not anymore. Voldemort's dead. Look." Draco lifted up his sleeve, and sure enough, the tattoolike mark was gone.

"Is it true you killed people?"

"No! God. What the hell is Weasley saying about me now?"

"I heard it from Blaise, not Weasley. I wouldn't talk to a Gryffindor." Fray sounded indignant at the implication that he might be friends with someone outside the mighty house of Slytherin.

"Oh. Well, still. That little git's mum is a murdering bitch, so I don't know why he's running his dirty whore mouth….Whatever, look, kid, like I said, Professor Slughorn asked me to talk to you. So just, shut up and listen okay, and if you don't like it, I'll go tell him he can kiss my arse, okay?"

Fray nodded seriously.

"Okay. Good." Draco stood up and gave Fray some breathing room. "Slug says you suck at potions."

"Yeah! I do, I try, I just don't get it! Its so hard! He's asking us what different ingredients do and how I am supposed to know? It isn't like they're useful or anything!" Daniel put his hands on his hips indignantly. Draco smothered, somewhat successfully, a grin.

"Slug wants me to tutor you. Every day for one hour, except for the weekends."

"What do _you_ know about potions, huh?"

"Merlin's beard, you're obnoxious. I happen to know a lot more than you, for the record. I got the highest OWL in Hogwarts my year, I'll have you know. I even beat out Granger, the only one who did better than her in anything. And I'm taking my NEWTS in Potions, one of only ten 7th years. So I'm pretty qualified, I think. Meet me in the common room tonight at, when's good for you? Right after dinner? 7 pm?"

"Yes sir." Draco snorted back a laugh. He just got called "sir" by a cheeky little kid—that was a first.

"Okay. 7 pm, then. Bring your book, cauldron, and wand." As Daniel Fray took off down the passage, Draco leaned up against the cool stone. He specifically picked 7 pm because he'd been told in no uncertain terms that he was removed from the Quidditch team. That's when the Slytherins had the field for practice. He missed being seeker, loved flying through the air. It had been one of the only times he'd felt free. Mostly, though, he just missed having friends. Then again, Draco thought to himself, maybe he hadn't ever really had a true friend before. He missed Crabbe and Goyle's company, but they really only were his friends because their parents were close. They had worshipped him because his parents' status was everything their parents wanted to be. That was before a madman destroyed everything, though. Crabbe was dead, and Goyle blamed Draco for his parents imprisonment in Azkaban. Draco had found himself on the receiving end of Goyle's fists a few times this year already.

Draco was sprawled on the giant stuffed leather couch in the common room. He had watched the Quidditch team stomp out to practice seconds ago, and was feeling quite miserable for himself. His dragonskin boots were unlaced and hanging off his feet. He was tossing a Snitch up in the air and silently stunning it. He'd grab it off his chest and let it go again. And again. It took a few minutes before he realized Fray was watching him. "Merlin, kid. Say something next time!" Draco stood up and pulled his boot laces tight. "Ready?"

"Yes, sir." Fray looked miserable. Oh well, there was no helping it. Slughorn told him his grades depended on Fray's improvement. "The best way to ensure mastery of a subject is the ability to teach it!" He could hear Slug's slimy voice, and with great effort, Draco pushed him out of his mind. After all, the only reason Slug pawned his junior students off on the seniors was because Slug only invested in students he felt would become famous or influential later in life. Draco reached out and plucked Fray's little cauldron from his hands. "Come on, kid. We're gonna go brew us up some magic."

"We're not gonna do it here?"

"Did you want everyone poking their nose in our business?"

"No, but I don't want to go to Professor Slughorn's classroom either!"

"Me either. We're going to my hidey-hole. C'mon, hurry up." Draco stood at the portrait and waited for Fray to climb out of it.

"First we gotta stop in the kitchens. If you tell anyone about this, though, I will cheerfully beat you up and put you in some of Filch's shackles!" He heard Fray whimper, which caused Draco to stop and turn around. Fray's eyes were huge.

"God damn, kid, I was joking. I won't tie you up. Or beat you up. Just, oh, forget it. Come on. Kitchens!" Draco stopped at the bowl of fruit and lightly brushed his fingers across the tangerine. The portrait swung open silently. He motioned Fray in, first, and then he followed.

He grinned as he heard the house elves shout, "It is Dobby's Favorite Master Malfoy! Littlest Malfoy HOW CAN WE SERVE YOU TODAY!?" There was a slight cheer around the kitchens. Draco started laughing. He had loved Dobby, and Dobby had loved him. Dobby had been the only one to really comfort Draco when he was little—his father was always gone, and his mother had no time for anything that hinted at weakness. He never forgave Potter for stealing Dobby. If he had been able to stop his father's abuse of the house elf, he would've, but nobody ever crossed Lucius. Besides, being on the receiving end of Lucius' fists himself, he knew there was nothing he could've done to give Dobby a better life. If there had been, he would've found a better life for himself, too. Draco pushed the memories of Dobby out of his mind and said, "Oh, wonderful elves, let me introduce Master Daniel Fray!" He laughed aloud at the look of part wonder, part fear, on Fray's face.

"What, you've never seen a House Elf, before?" Fray shook his head furiously.

"Okay, well, here, Pebsie!" He motioned to one of the littlest elves, with the largest, most prominent ears he'd ever seen on one of these creatures. "Hey, Fray's never met a house elf, and I don't know what he likes to eat. Can you take care of him?" Pebsie gave a little curtsey and her ears flopped forward and she rushed at Fray.

"Master Fray, Master Fray! Pebsie will take care of you! What do you likes? Do you likes chocolates? Or scones? Or pudding? Or icecreams? Or dinner, did Master Fray get enough dinner? Does he want some rolls and more chicken drumsticks? What can I gets you?" Fray reached out and patted Pebsie on the head, hesitantly. "Um. A drink?"

"Any drink?!"

"I guess?"

"Oh I will get Master Fray my favorite drink! It's why they call me Pebsie! I like Pebsie! It is the best!"

"Draco leaned in and whispered conspiratorially, "She means, Pepsi. It's a muggle drink and quite good."

Pebsie disappeared around the counters and then came rushing back with two cans of cold Pepsi.

"Excellent, Pebsie. Can I also please get some rolls? And maybe some ham and cheese for a sandwich? And of course, chocolate chip cookies? Do we have any?"

"Of course, Master Malfoy! Of course!" Pebsie turned around and started shrieking at the rest of the kitchen, "You HEARD him! You HEARD Dobby's Master Malfoy! Why does the elves not give him and the friend a basket? GET HIM HIS SAMMICH!" Draco started laughing.

"Hey, Pebsie, calm down, we're in no hurry. I appreciate it."

She turned and grinned shyly, twisting her tattered pillow sheet between her hands. "Anything for Dobby's favorite Master Malfoy."

"I miss him, Pebsie."

"I know, I misses him too. That's why we take care of you, Master Malfoy, for our Dobby."

Draco patted her head and laughed as the house elves kept running up to the basket that found its way into Fray's hands. They were dumping little packages into it. Fray's eyes were huge as he took in everything.

"Okay, let's go. Thank you, you wonderful House Elves. I'll see you tomorrow." Draco tugged on the back of Fray's robes and waved goodbye to the kitchens.

After a few more turns down the corridor, Draco finally reached his uncle's old office, which he opened with the old brass key. It had become a nightly ritual for him. He would grab a Pepsi, or Pumpkin Juice—or when he could manage it, a Butterbeer-from the kitchens, and read a little of the diary. It was a type of catharsis, it hurt, so badly sometimes, to see what his uncle did for him and his family. He was a double, triple, sometimes quadruple agent, with the Order of the Pheonix and the Dark Lord's Death Eaters. Sometimes Draco felt like he was reading a spy novel, sometimes he was sick to his stomach when he realized what the Dark Lord had done to his friends, his family, and to the innocents. He'd been on the receiving end of the Dark Lord's punishments, which made him a little more empathic. It was a new feeling for Draco: to empathize with someone in pain, or even to pity them. His favorite parts of the diary were when he felt as if Uncle Sev was speaking directly to him.

"Okay, look, a few ground rules." Fray set the basket down and stood silently, waiting for Draco to continue. "This is office belonged to my Uncle, who used to teach potions before he died in the Great War. He left me this space when he died. It's kind of on loan until I graduate. There are dangerous potion ingredients, some of which I'm not even allowed to use. Those are strictly off-limits. You don't touch my potion ingredients without supervision. Clear?"

"Yes sir. Don't touch the potions stuff."

"Second rule, you don't come here without me."

"Yes sir."

"That's it. Let's get started." Draco popped open his can of Pepsi and set the cauldron down in the center of the floor. He accio'ed some cushions for the both of them, and plopped down on the ground. Fray did likewise.

"Okay, so here's why Slytherins have such a hard time with potions. Once you understand this, you'll be okay." Draco thought for a minute to the same speech Uncle Sev had given him when he was a First Year and struggling with Potions, too.

Fray grabbed a quill and flipped open his Introductory Potions Level 1 book.

After a long pull on the Pepsi, Draco continued, "Slytherins have a problem with authority and with following the rules. It seems stupid to do each step exactly as written, right?"

"Yeah!" Fray tossed his quill down. "That's what I don't get. It shouldn't matter!"

"But it does. Because each step is a chemical and magical reaction. It's like doing fifteen different spells, one right after the other. Now, you don't have to follow _all_ the rules. There are simple things that I do a little different, and I'll teach you those things, like crushing instead of dicing, for some ingredients. Before you get to that point, though, you have to understand each ingredient and how it interacts with other ingredients. That's why, as a first, second, and third year, we have to follow the directions exactly. And, we have to really pay attention to each reaction, each time. That gives us a knowledge base to start making changes later on—but we can't do that if we don't understand how each ingredient functions. Antidotes isn't until 5th Year, which is basically working backwards to undo an entire Potion, and Theoretical Potions isn't until 6th Year, which is when you start predicting what happens when you mix certain ingredients. Are you following?"

"Yeah. Its not one potion, it's a bunch of little chemical interactions."

"Okay, what's the first potion you made in class?"

"Hair raising potion."

"That's usually a second year potion. That might be half of the problem, Slughorn has no sense of how different potions relate to each other. But, whatever, we'll make that. Plus it's just kinda fun to sprinkle on the sink and in the showers in the common bathrooms." He shared a conspiratorial grin with Fray.

"Okay, go ahead and read out the list of ingredients." Draco moved to the giant cupboard and began pulling most of the ingredients out by memory.

He brought over an armful of vials and jars and sat down next to Fray.

"Fray, for every potion you do, for the rest of your life, you must write down next to each step what happened—the color, consistency, smell, smoke, whatever happens exactly."

"Why?"

"Because after a while, you'll start to expect certain reactions based on what you've already created. You get to the point where you can actually know which steps are good to change, or to skip, because you can create the same effect by doing something different. So write down what happens. Do you want to add the ingredients, or do you want to read the instructions to me, and I'll add them?"

"This one has rat-tails in it. You can do it."

"You're queasy over rat-tails?" Draco laughed incredulously. "Fine. I'll do it. Read each step to me, and then I want you to look at what I've done and make your notes. After this one, we'll move onto whichever potion you'll do tomorrow for Slug's class. Sound like a good plan?"

"Yeah. Hey, Dray? Thanks."

Draco leaned back and looked at the kid scribbling in his Potions book. Maybe this whole tutoring thing wouldn't be so bad after all.

Draco had been paired with Hermione Granger today, as the two of them were the only ones have mastered the Advanced Transfiguration theory. McGonagall was moving from desk to desk, trying to get her students to succeed. Granger said something snide about his rock-turned-pencil. He bit his tongue, so hard he was sure he could taste blood. It wasn't that he hated her, even though she'd punched him once. He really couldn't blame her. He'd been insufferable during the first three years at Hogwarts. But in 5th Year, she'd been so wrapped up with Harry Potter and his faithful sidekick that she no longer paid him any attention. He used to be able to talk to her, even if it was just about schoolwork. He didn't share his father's opinions about Mudbloods, but it was the dirtiest word he knew, and he'd wanted to hurt her feelings like she'd hurt his. He foolishly kept holding out hope that since the Great War was done that maybe they could, well, not be friends exactly. But talk, maybe. Instead, she just gave him that same look that everyone else gave him. As if they expected him to just start _Avada Kadavering _people, or something. He used to feel angry, but now, he realized with a start, that he was just demoralized. His family was dishonored, he was lucky he was alive, his father's mental state would probably be ruined by his jaunt in Azkaban. If he'd been volatile before the Dementors, who knew what he'd be like now. The only three people in the world that showed him any affection whatsoever were Headmistress McGonagall, Madam Pomfrey, and little Daniel Fray. Even though he was the student in Professor Slughorn's 7th year class that had the highest grade, Sughorn still treated him as if he were dirt underneath his fingernails. Madam Pomfrey was just beside herself to have a real student instead of just running the Hogwart's Clinic—he was her first in three years. He was reasonably certain that McGonagall had been strong-armed into looking after him by Uncle Sev, and it really wasn't hard to impress a first year. Really, all it took was a well-aimed bat-bogey hex and they'd think you were a master of all things magical.

Draco brought his attention back to Hermione's running lecture on how he ought to have transfigured the rock into a pencil. "It's very simple, really, the rock is elemental, turn it into lead. And then lead is in the pencil. Obviously." Draco sighed and leaned back into his chair. "You're right, as usual, Granger. Why don't you give it a go?"

McGonagall's shrill voice interrupted Granger's wand movement. "Class dismissed. Master Malfoy, I need to speak with you a moment."

Draco heaved another sigh, trying to stave off the feelings of frustration and defeat that often overwhelmed him. He shoved his wand in his back pocket. He waited for everyone to leave, then trudged up to McGonagall's desk.

"Yes, ma'am?"

"Give me the key." Draco's mouth dropped open in shock.

"What? Why? You can't, please, you just can't! Professor, I mean Headmistress, please, I need that room. Please don't take it from me. Please, I'll do anything!" Draco started begging without realizing what he was doing. Thank Merlin his father couldn't see him now.

"Draco." McGonagall said his name sharply. "I told you that you weren't to make any unacceptable potions. So why, for Merlin's socks, have you been brewing potions? The one thing I told you not to do!" She slammed her hands down on her desk.

_McGonagall was a very scary lady when she gets mad_, Draco thought to himself. "Professor Slughorn didn't talk to you?"

"Talk to me about what? If he's set you up to brew some stupid Felix Felicis or Quodpot Solution, I. Will. Discuss. This. With. Him." She punctuated every word with a tap of her wand on the desk. "Now, the key."

"No, no, please. Headmistress. He has me tutoring little Daniel Fray. We're going through his textbooks and just doing basic potions. That's it. I swear."

McGonagall narrowed her eyebrows. "Very well…You may keep the key for now, but I will be following up with Slughorn. Do not try me." McGonagall gave Draco a searching look.

She leaned up against her desk. "Master Malfoy. Are you doing alright?"

"Yes ma'am. The classes this year aren't as overwhelming as I thought they'd be. Once I switched from Law to Healing, my workload lightened considerably."

"No, I wasn't asking about your courses. If you wish to talk…Well. I'll see you this Friday in the office. Did your mother sign the consent form?"

"I'll bring it Friday." Draco quickly left, hoping she wouldn't notice that he hadn't exactly answered her question about the form. He was planning on forging her signature, after all.

He rounded the corner and saw a group of fourth years waiting for him. "Fuck." Draco braced himself and kept walking.

"Malfoy!" He heard Goyle's sneering voice, and looked around. He spotted him hiding in an alcove. "Maaalfoy! You owe me something." Draco sighed, and continued walking. The Fourth Year students closed in on him, not quite touching him, but there were enough of them that he couldn't run if he needed. Something small and sharp smacked him in the back of the head. He didn't turn, knowing full well what was coming. Sure enough, thhhwick! He felt it, again.

"What do you want, Goyle?" Draco spoke wearily. He'd had this conversation many times before. The fourth years started snickering. Most of these younger students had been the object of Crabbe and Goyle's bullying last year. He wondered how many of them had been pinned and teased and threatened and cruciated by them. Draco had always considered himself above petty physical bullying, but had found it amusing to watch his two lackeys entertain themselves.

"I want my father out of fucking Azkaban, is what I want. But you can't give that to me, can you? Can you, little traitor?"

There was no response that Draco could give that would stop this scene from unfolding, so he just kept walking. He felt multiple hands tug on his robes. He heard Goyle jump down from the alcove with a loud clatter.

"Hey! I'm talking to you! Bitch!" Malfoy kept walking, and was suddenly jerked backward when Goyle grabbed a handful of his hair. Malfoy felt, rather than saw, Goyle's fist fly through the air and connect on his jaw. He momentarily forgot about retrieving his wand as he pinwheeled his arms, trying to regain balance. Goyle released his deathgrip on his hair and shoved him to the ground. Malfoy curled up, defenseless, and unable to get his wand from his back pocket, because the younger students started kicking. He felt a boot connect with his arms, but before he could react he heard Daniel Fray yelling down the hall.

"Hey! It's McGonagall!"

The crowd disbursed instantly, and Draco stood up, rubbing the back of his head and taking stock. A few tears in his robes, a bruise that was already rainbowing across his jaw, and Merlin's socks, fucking Goyle ripped out some of his hair. Fortunately the damage this time had been minor. Normally it was routine hazing—finding a sniffler had torn up his room (which Goyle promptly stopped because they shared the senior bunkroom), or someone trying to slip dungbeetles into his food, but last time he was attacked Blaise had tried to slash him with a little pocketknife. Fray came running up the hall, out of breath.

"She's not really coming. I lied to get them away. Are you okay? Should I go get her?" Daniel looked up at him eagerly.

Draco had a flood of emotions. He was still furious at Goyle. He was embarrassed, and hurt. And he did not want to deal with Daniel's overeager puppy-like attachment right now. He straightened robes, and with great self control he said levelly, "I'm fine."

Daniel sensed that Draco was a little unstable and backed away. "Do you want me to help you? Get you to your uncle's office?"

"No." Daniel wavered, still unsure.

"I'm fine, Dan. Thanks." Draco softened his tone and tried to smile at him.

"Okay. If you want to get back at Goyle, I'd like to get him for stuffing me in one of the suits of armor, so, maybe we can pour some Dragon Pox Potion over him when he's sleeping!"

Draco started laughing, partialy at the thought of Goyle covered in Dragon Pox, and partialy at the thought of Fray stuck in a suit of armor.

"Yeah. Maybe we can do that." Draco paused and added, "Thanks. Really." before turning and striding down the hall with what remained of his pride.


	4. Weekend at Saint Mungo's

Draco met Madame Pomfrey in the Hogwarts clinic. She handed him two pairs of light blue scrubs and a white jacket. "I can't stay over long. I'm going to give you to Healer Desaise, and you will basically follow him around. I spoke with Head Healer Heilen, and he is willing to let you use a ward bed for the night. It isn't ideal, at all, and I'm sorry for that. When we collect you on Saturday evening, if this is something you wish to continue doing, we'll figure out a better arrangement. Is this satisfactory?"

Draco grinned. "Yes, ma'am. Very. Do I change into these now?"

"Yes, and put one in your overnight bag. When you're ready, knock on my door. We'll go by Floo."

Draco quickly changed and shoved his jeans, sweater, and extra scrubs into his backpack. He double-checked he had a towel, toothbrush, and all the necessities for staying the night, and then straightened the white overcoat. He caught his reflection in the window and a small smile played over his lips. He looked like a real Healer.

Madam Pomfrey handed him over to Healer Desaise, who was quite eager for the additional help. Desaise was a squirrelly looking man, his small glasses looked incongruous with his large eyes. It appeared to Draco that Desaise had too much energy and not enough outlets for it—he couldn't sit or stand still. He was constantly tapping his feet, or fingers.

Despite his little motion quirk, Draco found Desaise to be an amiable guy. He seemed apologetic every time he tasked Draco with an unpleasant task. Draco kind of wondered if Desaise knew who he was, and what he'd been accused of during the Post War Trials. As Draco's picture had been all over the front page of the Daily Prophet, he found it unlikely that Desaise was ignorant. It was either exceptionally good manners, or else Desaise was that desperate for help.

They were working the Registrar's Desk. And Draco's first few hours at Saint Mungo's were indeed spent in a blur—Draco began to wonder if he'd ever even see a patient. He was stuck running for forms and cleaning vomit splatters—Merlin's socks, if he ever got his hands on the remaining Weasley twin who was "beta testing" a different flavor of Skiving Snackboxes, he would hex his pants on fire—and just when he was about ready to return to Hogwarts and swear off the whole Healer experience, Desaise called him.

"Hey, come with me, we're going to do the vitals on the next three patients. I'll do the first one, coach you through the second one, and if you've got the last one perfect you can stay here and handle the check-ins. The forms are basic, and I daresay you know where the extras are kept, after your third trip for them this morning."

Checking patients' vitals and writing down the litany of ills and complaints was not difficult. The hardest part was trying not to lose his temper at the foolish complaints from overwrought mothers who were certain that their little children or husbands were not in fact trying out Weasley's Wizard Wheezes Skiving Snackboxes. The most nerve-wracking moment was when a very pregnant witch was pulled into the hospital by her very agitated husband. Draco quickly shoved the form in to the husband's hands and said "Fill this out as best as you can. Head up to the OB/GYN ward instead of waiting for a Healer to do the cursory administrative inspection—it is fairly obvious what unit you need. Just give the form to the Healer in the OB/GYN unit, they'll sort it out the rest of the way."

Draco leaned back in the chair and quickly glanced at the clock. It was already 3 in the afternoon, and he hadn't even eaten lunch. Draco felt a flicker of annoyance at Healer Desaise for abandoning him on his first day. His internal debate over leaving his posting to find the hospital cafeteria was interrupted when a shadow fell across his desk. He looked up, and up, because standing in front of him was the largest wizard he had ever seen.

"Hello, sir." Draco fumbled for his intake forms and quill. When he looked back up he noticed the man had a shock of bright ginger hair.

"Are you a Weasley?!" Draco burst out accusingly before he could stop himself.

"Yeah. Charlie. Second eldest." Charlie smiled, and Draco noticed he had perfect white teeth.

"Merlin's beard, another Weasley. Hey, you tell your brother to stop beta testing his new flavors of those stupid skiving snackboxes! If I get another kid in here puking up his guts I'm going to lose my mind!"

"If I see him, I'll be sure to do that." Charlie tried to choke back a laugh and couldn't quite do it.

"Anyway. Let me fill out this intake form and I'll get you sent to the correct unit."

Charlie folded himself into one of the chairs in front of the desk with an ease that belied his size. He might have the Weasley hair, but that is where the similarities ended. Where Ron and the twins were slender, Charlie rippled with muscles. He also sported a very deep tan, or maybe his face was just so dark from all of the freckles—Draco couldn't quite tell.

"Okay, age?"

"I'm 26."

"Are you running a fever? And let me take your pulse and blood pressure." Draco leaned forward with the stethoscope. "

"No, I'm physically fine." Charlie pulled up the green sleeve on his obviously homemade sweater and stuck his wrist out patiently and waited for Draco to scribble his vitals down on the intake form.

"Okay, well the second half of this form is in regards to spells, hexes, transfigurations and the like—so, you sure you're fine in that regard?"

"Yeah. I'm here because Mom thinks it'll help convince Dad." Charlie had such an expression of annoyance that Draco couldn't help himself.

"Convince your dad of what?"

"I don't expect you'll understand." Charlie crossed his arms, and the scowl that crossed his face immediately discouraged further questions.

"Okay. Well. Mr. Weasley, what ward would you like me to send you to, since you're apparently fine?" Draco tried to keep the sarcasm out of his voice but couldn't quite do it.

"Hexes, I guess. Dad thinks I've been hexed."

"Okay well before I send you there, I'm supposed to fill out the additional questionnaire regarding the type of hex…"

"It isn't a hex. Dad only thinks it is." Charlie shot Draco a level look, silently daring him to ask another question.

"Sir. I don't understand. If you're fine, why are you here?"

"Because I need a Healer to agree with me that I'm fine, so I can go tell Dad to come off it, and so Mom will stop worrying."

"Okay, then, um…" Draco fumbled with his forms and quill. He wasn't sure what to do with this particular situation.

"I guess, then, um…I'll mark you down for the Hex Unit then. Down the corridor, second door on the right, and ask for Healer Mirari." Charlie stood up and reached for the paperwork. Unperturbed, Draco continued, "She'll do a cursory administrative examination as part of the check-in process and set you up with a room in the correct unit." He finally handed the paperwork to Charlie, to strode off without so much as a goodbye or thank-you. Draco couldn't help but admire the way Charlie's jeans fit snuggly around his ass as he walked purposefully away from the Registrar's Desk—even if he thought Charlie was a bit of a git.

Healer Desaise finally showed back up around 5 o'clock, and told Draco to go eat. Draco stifled the urge to ask him where he'd been for the last several hours, but remembered Madam Pomfrey's instructions. "You're going to be stuck with grunt work at first, because no one is sure about you. Plus, you haven't even qualified NEWT yet, so until you do that, you certainly won't be treating patients. If this is something you really want, you must use this time right now to prove yourself." She had tugged furiously on her wimple, and then added, "And you shouldn't bring up the fact that your father's donations ensured the last two wings were built. His financial backing has kept Saint Mungo's operational, and while I alluded to the fact that the Malfoys might not want to support a hospital that would treat them so poorly, it would be terribly ill mannered of you to do the same."

Draco trudged down the halls toward the cafeteria. He wanted to do something that mattered, and yet today felt like he was just a glorified janitor. He was really pissed about those stupid Skiving Snackboxes—his Italian leather shoes were never going to be the same. He grabbed a bottled pumpkin juice and sat in a corner booth moodily. _Maybe I can just tour the poisons ward. _He wondered if Desaise would mind taking him there before he left for the day. Before he could continue too much further in that vein of thought he saw Desaise walk into the cafeteria. Draco stood up and made his way to where Desaise stood.

"Hey, I'm off the clock now, I was gonna take you to the room Healer Heilen says you can use for the weekend, where we stashed your bag. Did you want to see anything in particular before we get you settled in for the night? I've got about 30 minutes before the wife gets off work, so it'll be okay if I'm a little late home." Desaise rocked back and forth and shoved his glasses up higher on his nose. Draco couldn't help the grin that spread across his face.

"Yeah, I'd really like to see the poisons unit."

"Poisons? That's high-falutin' healing!" Desaise peered at Draco over his little glasses.

"I know. My uncle died from poisoning, so..." Draco trailed off, and was saved from an awkward silence by Desaise's ever helpful chattering.

"Oh well, I reckon that's why you're here then huh? Healing is a noble profession, but most of us are hurt in some way or another. Lost someone, or got some other type of hurt…You'll see, we're all so driven to be something great…That's why we do what we do. We might lie and say it's to help, but we're really just tryin'a help ourselves!" Draco had to hurry to keep up with Desaise, who strode purposefully down the winding hall, still chattering away mindlessly.

"Welp, here we go! Poisons! Lets see if we can find Healer Potio. He practically lives here. He hardly ever has patients. Most of his work is to brew medicines the rest of us use. When he isn't treating someone he's brewing up some newfangled potion, an antidote….Don't let him test anything on you. Last time he tested a 'cure' on someone we had to admit them as a patient." Desaise whispered conspiratorially to Draco.

"POTIO! I've got someone for you!" Desaise yelled over the dividers, and within seconds a short, portly Italian waddled into the foyer.

"What! Why'a you a'botherin' me?" Potio gesticulated wildly at Desaise, his fingers and thumb making a point that he shook skyward to punctuate every word. Draco wiped his hand across his mouth in efforts to hide the grin. The fat little Italian's accent was so thick it sounded comedic.

"Master Malfoy, this is Healer Potio, Head of Poisons and Antidotes. Potio, this is Draco Malfoy. He's a 7th Year at Hogwarts, and the student of sweet little Pomfrey, do you remember little Poppy? He's the only one in Hogwarts this year who wants to make something of himself, he's going to be applying to our summer intern program. Just wanting to get a head start, I reckon."

Draco reached out to shake Healer Potio's hand. "Good to meet you, sir."

"Well, why'a you bring'a him to me? Why'a you a'curious 'bout poisonings?" Potio propped his hands on his expansive waist and glared at Draco.

Draco dropped his hand, slightly miffed at the rebuff. "Because my Uncle Severus was poisoned to death during the Great War."

"Snape?"

"Yeah." Draco crossed his arms and glared back at Potio.

"You'a Snape's kin? You'a the kid who so so, so good at'a de potions?"

"Yeah." Draco waited defensively, wondering if Potio was going to make a Death Eater comment.

"Well, why'a didn'a you say'a so? That Half Blood Princely Prick and I go way'a way'a back! Come in, come in!" Potio put his hand on Draco's shoulder and pulled him gently into the ward. He turned and leveled a glare at Desaise. "Goodbye, you."

"Well, fine! Goodbye yourself, you fat bastard!" Desaise wrinkled his nose at the pointed dismissal and turned to leave.

"Sod off, you bug-eyed twit!" Potio yelled, but was cut-off because Desaise slammed the door to the Poison's Ward. The bang reverberated around and Draco stood still, momentarily stunned at the unexpected interaction he'd just witnessed. Potio, however, kept a running rant of hateful comments directed toward Desaise and his too-small glasses while waddling down the narrow halls.

"Come'a on in, come'a on, this'a my office!" Draco peered through the doorway and saw a long table with five different cauldrons in various stages of brewing Merlin-only-knew-what opposite a wall full of jars. There were so many potion ingredients in here that Draco wondered if he'd even heard of some of them.

The next several hours with Potio passed quickly. Potio had, apparently, been great friends with Severus during their Hogwarts years, and had many humorous stories to share with Draco. His knowledge of Potions was vast. He was equally impressed with Draco's acumen, and spent a significant amount of time quizzing him. He also had him brew up several potions that were used regularly throughout the hospital—potions to relax and calm, potions to stop bleeding or to cause restful sleep, potions to numb pain, and a whole host of antidotes. Draco was amused to discover that the Weasley Wizarding Wheezes Skiving Snackboxes Antidotes were in four of the five cauldrons bubbling away on the desk when he initially entered the office. Finally, Potio noticed that Draco kept yawning and suggested that he get some rest. Potio also decided, without consulting Draco, that he would be spending the rest of the weekend in the Poison Ward.

"You'a tell Desaise that'a you'sa comin' to assist'a me. If'a he gives you any'a trouble, you'a come getta me, okay?" Draco nodded, and wondered exactly how long the conversation between Potio and Desaise would last before either party grabbed for their wands and started slinging hexes.

Draco headed slowly back to the room that Desaise had set aside for him. He was deep in thought. Running into Potio was unexpected, but Draco wasn't all too sure he wanted to work strictly with Potio. He was a fount of knowledge, and Draco was sure if he were to tough out a few years under Potio he could take over the Poison Ward—pending his NEWT grades, of course. Potio, however, was slightly obnoxious. No wonder he had never heard Uncle Sev reference this friend. Snape knew that Lucius would never associate with a commoner—nor would he permit his son, either. Draco realized with a start that he wasn't even sure what ward he was in, but he had found his assigned room after all. When he flicked on the lights he was relieved to see his backpack waiting for him at the foot of the bed.

"Shut off the bloody lights!"

Draco immediately flicked the switch and stood in the darkness silently.

"Well, you might as well turn them back on, I'm already awake, you bloody git." The voice sounded slightly less annoyed this time.

"My apologies. I thought I was the only occupant of the room." Draco hesitantly turned on the lights to see who else was in the room. He was quite surprised to see the large, red-haired man sprawled out in the other bed. He had one knee up, and both hands behind his head. Draco noticed first that he was only wearing green and blue striped boxers. He noticed secondly that he had a wicked looking scar on his ribs, and a band of dragons circling his upper arm. _His very well defined upper arm_, Draco mentally corrected himself.

"Charlie? What are you doing here?" Draco exclaimed.

"I'm being kept overnight for observation." Charlie's voice indicated dry amusement.

"Oh. Well. Um…" Draco found himself unusually lost for words.

"What are you doing here?" Charlie shifted onto his side.

"Its kind of, an extracurricular thing. I want to go into Healing after graduation this year. I'm Madam Pomfrey's only student, so she arranged this whole 'weekend at Saint Mungo's' for me." Draco forced himself not to stare at Charlie. He busied himself with grabbing his boxers and toothbrush from his bag.

Charlie nodded at the explanation. "Well, that's awfully nice of her. If I had been able to work on the Dragon Reserves while still at Hogwarts I might've stayed on to attempt my NEWTS."

"Is that where the scar is from?" Draco burst out before he could help himself.

"Yeah, a short-snout caught me off guard and burned me." Charlie shifted to show off the burn, which crept from his lower ribs to under his arm and across the back of his shoulder-blade.

"That musta hurt like a bitch."

Charlie nodded and sat up, cross legged. Draco, again finding himself at a loss for words, darted into the bathroom. He stared himself down in the mirror.

"_Look, you fool, just get changed, and walk out there like its no big deal. Don't think about how hot he is, and that you only brought underwear to sleep in, or that he probably hates you because he's a Weasley and Merlin only knows what Ron said about you…_" Draco kept an internal monologue running the entire time he changed and brushed his teeth. He splashed some water on his face and ran his fingers through his hair. "_You got this_."

Draco stuffed his folded clothes into his backpack and climbed into the remaining unoccupied bed while furiously avoiding eye contact with the muscular man who watched him with detached curiosity.

Draco smoothed the covers and hazarded a glance across the room. Charlie grinned and said "You gonna get the lights, or should I hex them?"

"Damn." Draco jumped out of bed and swiped at the light switch, thankful that the darkness would prevent Charlie from seeing the blush that was spreading across his face and ears.

After Draco was resituated, Charlie attempted to strike up the conversation again. He noticed how discomfited Draco was, and wanted to make sure it wasn't his fault.

"So, Junior Healer, what's your name?"

"Draco. Draco Malfoy." Charlie watched him drop his head and bow his shoulders. His light blonde hair obscured his face. It was as if he expecting an assault, verbal or otherwise. Charlie had this urge to wrap him in a hug because he looked so downtrodden. That, and he really wanted to see how that light hair felt between his fingers.

"Well, Draco, I'm pleased to meet you."

Draco looked up, hesitantly. "Same to you."

"Sorry I was short tempered this morning. I'm not usually that irritable."

"s'okay." Draco lay down, and decided to ask Charlie, again, why he was here. Before he could, though Charlie continued talking.

"Well, that's probably a lie. Ginny says I have the temper of a dragon in the morning, until I get some coffee." Charlie laughed a little, and then fell silent.

"So, why are you here, then, if you're fine?"

Charlie heaved a huge sigh and got out of bed in one swift motion. Draco sat up in surprise.

"I'm just getting a drink." Charlie waved at him to lay back down, and moved with silent steps across the darkened room. Draco lay down again. "I had a huge falling out with the family. Bill, the oldest, is the only one who's being supportive." Charlie's voice got louder and echoed a little as he stepped into the bathroom and spoke over the running water. "Dad decided the only logical explanation for my behavior was that I'd been hexed. Mum agreed with him, but I'm not sure if it's because Mum always agrees with Dad, or if she really does agree with him in this case. So to shut them both up, I agreed to a visit to Saint Mungo's. Healers agreed that I'm fine, and not hexed, but I guess my request was so weird they decided to keep me for observation."

"Not to be critical of you, or your parents, but I've seen how you Weasleys are, and I don't think your parents could ever be considered 'not supportive.' I mean, MacGonangal had to threaten my mom to let me change my course work, and Merlin's beard, Dad is going to beat me when he discovers I'm not taking pre-law NEWTS anymore…" Draco's voice trailed off a little uncertainly. He couldn't imagine Molly Weasley every saying a harsh word to any of her children. She'd always been nice to him, even after his father had slipped Ginny the diary of Tom Riddle.

Charlie started laughing and set the glass of water down on the windowsill. He climbed back into bed. "Well, they weren't too happy about me being a dragon trainer, either, come to think of it. But they came around after a bit. I guess they'll come around to this, too."

"Come around to what?"

"You didn't read my file?"

"Seemed like you didn't want it to be any of my business this morning. So no, I didn't." Draco crossed his arms defensively and stared at the ceiling.

"Oh." Charlie was silent for a minute, as if debating whether or not to tell him. "I came out today, at dinner. Mom was talking about trying to hook me up with Katie Bell, you know, the one who used to date Fred. I think she just wanted Katie as a daughter—she's practically family already. She and Angela live with George at the shop. I couldn't take it anymore. I'm the only one of the kids who isn't married or about to be married, and Mom worries, and tries to hook me up every chance she gets, she just doesn't understand-" Charlie stopped suddenly, as if he was just now aware how fast he was rambling.

Draco rolled over and looked across the room, even though in the darkness he could only barely make out Charlie's form. "You told your parents you're gay, and they checked you into the hospital?!"

"Seems harsh when you say it that way." Charlie couldn't quite keep the bitterness out of his voice.

"At least you told them. I haven't told my parents yet. Dad would tell me to 'Stop being dramatic, Draco.'" He did a spot on imitation of Lucius' drawl. "And then, when he realized I was serious, he'd disown me. The family name must go on, and all that."

Charlie's jaw dropped. He sat there in silence for a minute. "Are you serious right now?"

"You're the first person I've told. I'm not even sure why I did tell you." Draco rolled over so his back was facing Charlie.

"Maybe because I'm stunningly good looking and you want to ask me to go get a pumpkin juice with you in the cafeteria for breakfast, tomorrow." Charlie said, teasingly.

Draco peered over his shoulder and laughed. "Is it a date, then?"

"I expected a Malfoy to have a higher standard of what constitutes 'date,' but yes, I suppose it is." Charlie laughed.

"Oh, you're the one who set up this date. If I was planning a date, I'd say, meet me Wednesday, noon, on the Hogwart's Quidditch field, for a picnic and Seeker's Match." Draco held his breath. He had tried to make his tone light, and teasing, like Charlie's had been, but he wasn't teasing. He was really trying to flirt with this older man. He knew that Charlie used to be Captain of the Gryffidor Quidditch Team, and had even been scouted for a few professional teams. Draco wasn't sure why he stopped playing, but bet that Charlie missed flying through the air as much as he did.

Charlie was silent for a good minute. "Wednesday. Noon. I'll bring my broom and some honeymead, since I don't think you can get that from the kitchens. Can you get the Snitch?"

Draco exhaled. "Of course. Anything in particular you want for lunch?"

"Naw. Whatever's fine. I'm not choosy." Charlie let the silence between them linger for a second, then he said softly, "Goodnight, Draco."

"Night, Charlie."

Breakfast the next morning was enjoyable. Draco was worried that their conversation would be filled with awkward gaps, but they chattered on about family, school, career choices—and had a mini contest over who had the worst injury. Charlie was not convinced that Draco's broken bones from a hexed Quiddich match were any comparison to his burns. Draco maintained that burns are easily healed, but broken bones take time. Charlie was an intense man, Draco found. He gave Draco his complete and undivided attention, leaning over the table and inclining his head while Draco spoke. Draco thought to himself, _He listens with his whole body._

Charlie was fascinated with this young man. He was funny, and flirty, and absolutely adorable. There was also a darkness to Draco, a hidden hurt, that Charlie wanted to understand. He could see that the smile Draco wore was often a mask that covered some hurt. He desperately wanted to reach out and brush the stray strand of hair off his forehead; but wasn't sure if Draco was really interested, or just flirting because he could. Charlie tried to push Ron, his youngest brother, from his mind. He couldn't quite pull it off, though, and Ron's aggravated sighing and repeated complaints about "this selfish prig, the Dumbledore-slaying, Voldemort-worshiping git!" ran through his memory. Charlie decided that he was done with the Great War, done with the hurtful prejudices and anger and until this young man did something to overtly offend him, Charlie was going to let his curiosity get the best of him.

All too soon breakfast ended, and Draco headed off to work. Desaise had apparently been accosted by Potio, because he tersely sent Draco back to the Poison Ward. Even among all the brewing tasks, Draco found himself distracted and having to ask Potio to repeat himself: his thoughts were completely consumed with the oldest Weasley. Charlie was physically attractive to Draco. He was also very intimidating. Not only because he was older and more mature, but because he was polar opposite from Draco in every way. They fought on different sides of the war, they had parents who raised them in radically different ways, they were even in the two most competitive houses at Hogwarts. It seemed impossible to hope that Charlie would deign to give him the time of day.


	5. So, we're an us?

Draco was sitting in Madam Hooch's referee box, the picnic basket Pebsie packed shoved into a corner. Draco had his birthday present laying across his lap: this year's newest broom, a Meteorol 350, and was resting his feet on the Quiddich Ballbox. He nervously scanned the field, looking for Charlie. He resisted the urge to run his fingers through his hair, because he felt that gave him a disheveled appearance. Draco had chosen his robes with great care, purposely opting for clothing that gave no indication that he belonged to Slytherin House. Draco's schedule had worked out optimally for this date. He had Double Potions in the morning, and was free the rest of the day.

Charlie had apparated into Hogsmeade and was making his way down the path to Hogwarts. He was carrying his broom—it was an older model, the Nimbus 2000—and the bottles of Honeymeade he'd bought off Rosmerta. He had also thought to snatch up a few varieties of candies from Honeydukes. As he got nearer to Hogwarts, he wondered what he was going to do if Draco did not show. He also wondered briefly what he'd do if old Filch, or another professor, stopped him at the gate. He'd be tempted to punch Filch in the throat, although simply telling Filch he was stopping by to see Ginny would probably alleviate all suspicion. Actually, Charlie thought to himself, he'd probably better see Ginny and Ron while he was here.

Charlie made it into the Hogwarts grounds with no interference from any staff, and made a beeline for the Quidditch field. Draco saw him as soon as he entered the grounds, and resisted the urge to jump up and run toward him. _Don't be childish. _Draco scolded himself. _Act natural._

Charlie breathed a huge sigh of relief when he saw Draco waiting for him. Charlie felt a surge of protectiveness and giddiness when he made eye-contact with Draco. He couldn't help the big goofy grin that plastered itself to his face while he walked across the Quidditch field.

Proffering the six pack of Honeymeade, Charlie sat down next to Draco. "It's been a long time since I've played a game of Quiddich."

Draco laughed as he cracked open a bottle. "But you don't get to be captain of the team without being really, really good. I've seen your name all over the trophies. Do you have any particular rules for the Seeker's Match? Or are we going by the Official Quiddich Rules and Instructions Manual?"

"The OQ-RIM, I guess. Seeker's match is just a normal game except it's only two seekers and the snitch, right?" Charlie used the slang for the reference manual, making it sound like "Oak Rim." He grinned and opened his Honeymeade. "Unless you Slytherin-types have any rules I should know about?"

"We usually play that the loser owes the winner a favor."

"Blank check, anything I want? Or do you establish specifics before the game?"

"No, a blank check to be cashed in later, whenever _I_ want, anything _I _want."

"Well that's cute, that you think you're gonna win."

"Obviously, I'm not an old, decrepit wizard. You probably can't even stay on your broom." Draco raised his eyebrows at Charlie, loftily.

"Alright, you young whippersnapper. I'm gonna whoop your ass up there." They both laughed, and finished their Honeymeade. As they walked out to the starting pitch, brooms over their shoulders, Charlie worked up the courage to touch Draco. It was fleeting, he flung his arm around Draco and pulled him in for a split second. Draco instinctively tensed up, and then relaxed against Charlie. The moment was over because they reached the pitch and Charlie pulled away. When he felt Draco tense, he was afraid he'd been too forward. Charlie was all to aware that he could easily end up on the wrong side of the Aurors, if McGonagall called them to report the Harassment of a Minor or, Unauthorized Entry on Prohibited Grounds. The wizarding police were slightly less of a concern than his fear of scaring Draco off entirely. Charlie lived a very secluded life on the Dragon Reserves. He really only interacted with other Dragon Trainers. If he'd wanted a good shag, he'd have a one night stand with a wizard he'd pick up at Flash's, the only wizard gay and lesbian bar down in Knockturn Alley. It had been a long time, actually, since his 4th year at Hogwarts, that Charlie had felt the kindling of a real fire starting. He was falling absolutely head over heels in love with this mercurial kid, his high temper and pride, and his deep hurt and need, and his beautiful blonde hair and wide blue eyes. In fact, if Charlie was completely honest, he might be more in love with Draco than he was with his dragons.

Charlie and Draco both mounted their brooms, and together performed the spell to open the Quidditch box and release only the snitch. The Bludgers and Snitch were held in place with spelled leather straps that normally the referee would release. Charlie was surprised to note that this was a brand new box of Quidditch balls. He'd assumed Draco would've supplied his own personal box. He would've been able to tell if it wasn't new, since snitches have a skin memory. The snitch was airborne with a little buzzing noise as it's wings flapped furiously, and he and Draco counted to 15, outloud and together, slowly. Both were scanning the air around them, looking for a the golden glint. 12….13….14….15—and they took off! They sped through the air. Charlie felt like a kid again—he hadn't had a carefree game of Quidditch since he taught Ginny to play in the backyard. Once he became captain of the Gryffindor team he allowed his uber-competitive streak full reign. His 5th Year he was sought by by the Chudley Cannons, but turned them down in favor of working with the dragons. He never regretted not playing professional Quidditch, but he did regret that he'd now lost most opportunities to feel this level of joy bubbling up in him. Adult wizards just didn't play games often, and his friends thought he was silly for keeping an expensive racing broom that he hardly ever got to use.

Charlie sent himself spinning in a tight spiral formation, corkscrewing across the field. He righted himself and did another quick scan in all directions. Not seeing anything remotely golden he shot straight up into the air, as high as possible, and sent himself into a breakneck nosedive. He braked suddenly over the pitch and again did another scope of the field. No snitch. However, sudden movement in his peripheral vision caused him to rise level to the goalposts. It was Draco, who was speeding across the field toward him. Charlie took a minute to admire the broom, and then another to admire Draco's natural handling and skill. The Metereol 350 was a professional level broom and Charlie would've said it was probably too powerful for most people to use. However, Draco flew like he was born on a broom. Charlie was started to realize that Draco was flying directly toward him, so he did a quick inspection of his immediate vicinity. Watching for the snitch was a constant game of situational awareness, and even though Charlie was flying for the simple joy of flying, he fell back into his old sportsman habits. Once he was satisfied that Draco wasn't flying for the snitch, Charlie drew even with Draco and met him in the air.

"What gives?!" Draco yelled at him incredulously.

"What do you mean?" Charlie wrinkled his eyebrows in confusion.

"What are you _doing?! _You're flying around like, like, you've lost your mind!" Draco waved his arms furiously and sounded indignant.

Charlie laughed so hard he almost lost his grip on the Nimbus 2000. "I haven't flown in a long, long time, and it feels good. What, you afraid I'm just gonna let you win?"

"Seems like you aren't taking it seriously." Draco sounded slightly mollified, but Charlie sensed that Draco felt a little piqued nonetheless.

"Oh, I'm gonna spank your ass, young man. I'm just warming up." Charlie laughed, and started the beginning moves of the Wronski Feint. He looked suddenly down and behind Draco, and plastered a huge smile on his face. Without warning he sent the broom into a dive, hand outstretched. He heard Draco shriek and turn his broom. Within seconds he had accelerated enough to be level with Charlie, and in fact over-take him. It was a few second later that Charlie saw, with great satisfaction, confusion as Draco tried to find the snitch. Charlie braked and then Draco spun around and glared at him. "You just tried to WRONSKI me! Are you kidding?"

"First you're upset that I'm not taking it seriously. Then you're upset that I'm taking it too seriously. Just face it, young man, you don't stand a chance!"

Draco sputtered.

"You better start worrying about my favor, young man." Charlie yelled over his shoulder as he took off across the field. He heard Draco yell furiously, which caused Charlie to smile. The wind blew his bright ginger hair a little loose from its braid, and Charlie felt that joy bubbling again.

Charlie ended up hovering around the far goalposts, and Draco was flying around the other end of the field. The both turned and lingered at their respective goalposts while scanning the air for the snitch. Draco was distracted by Charlie. He was very graceful on the broom. Without extreme concentration, Draco wouldn't have been able to perform half the spins and corkscrews that Charlie executed effortlessly. He was too big to be a Seeker. He would've made a much better Beater. Draco mused to himself that the extra foot in his arm span probably came in useful, though. It'd taken a great deal of effort to catch up to him in the Wronski Feint, and that was only possible because he had a higher power broom.

Draco's woolgathering was cut short when he saw Charlie move. He saw the point that Charlie was flying toward—for the first time he caught sight of the golden snitch. He instantly catapulted himself across the field. He silently swore an oath to his Uncle Severus, which mainly consisted of, "oh please, please, please, please don't let me lose and I'll never let you down again." Draco and Charlie reached the snitch at the same time. Charlie began braking to avoid the collision, but Draco plowed full speed into him. He didn't care about the possible damage to his broom, or that he might accidentally fall. And, as his hand closed around the snitch, he felt the front end of his broom strike Charlie. He looked up from the snitch and saw that he'd poked Charlie in the thigh. The impact flipped Draco head over heels off his broom. Charlie reacted instinctively and caught Draco who had curled into a tight ball. The weight was too much for his Nimbus 2000 and they sank comically to the ground. Charlie held Draco's back against his chest by tucking his arm behind Draco's knees and holding his thighs tightly against Draco's chest. Draco was still curled up tightly, so Charlie supported the weight by releasing his broom and putting his arm under his bundle. He landed with a slight stumble.

"Oh fuck. Draco, Draco, are you okay?" Charlie sank to the ground and laid Draco down. Draco coughed and started laughing.

"You caught me instead of the snitch."

Charlie leaned forward and brushed Draco's hair off his forehead. "Yeah, I caught you."

Draco propped himself up. "You let me win."

Charlie smiled. "Technically, you just fouled on the catch, because of Blatching."

"I'm still cashing in my favor."

Charlie laughed. "You might want to worry about your broom first. Let's grab lunch." He reached forward and pulled Draco to his feet. "I was afraid you were going to get hurt."

Draco shot Charlie a look. "I think that's the first time anyone's ever been concerned with my safety."

"Really?" Charlie was surprised.

"Yeah. I was….expendable, I guess, during the Great War. And my father, well, he used to….nevermind. Let's eat." Draco hurried toward the referee's box, embarrassed. He stopped to collect his broom en route; fortunately, it only suffered slight cosmetic damage in its hurdle to the ground.

Charlie and Draco eagerly tore into the sandwiches. Charlie let out a whoop when he saw the Pepsi. "Dragon's teeth, I love muggle food." He gulped down half the can, and then looked levelly at Draco. "So, Draco, what did your father used to do?"

Draco studiously avoided Charlie's gaze. He picked at his sandwich. "It's nothing. He just, he got angry and stressed out, sometimes. You know. No big deal."

Charlie put his hand on Draco's knee. "I'm sorry he hurt you."

Draco hunched over a little defensively, causing Charlie to withdraw. Draco's elbows were resting on his knees. He was flipping the tab on his Pepsi can back and forth, and it snapped off in his hands. Draco looked at it, and hurled it across the box.

Charlie reached over and rubbed his back in a figure eight. He didn't say anything. Charlie longed to hold him close, to be his confidant, but dared not move. He didn't want to startle Draco while he was in a moment of vulnerability. Charlie had seen wounded dragons react violently. The last thing he wanted was for Draco to feel unsafe, to put up a wall between them.

Draco regained control of himself and offered a weak smile at Charlie. Charlie grinned right back, his perfect teeth and dimples making him look young. "Let's get showered. I need to look in on my brother and sister while I'm here. Ginny'd be really mad if she found out I snuck into Hogwarts and didn't find her."

Draco stiffened and Charlie raised his eyebrows questioningly.

"I forgot that you were a Weasley."

Charlie took a deep breath and tried not to take offense. "What do you mean?"

Draco had the grace to look embarrassed. "I'm sorry. That sounded wrong. I just, you know that Ron and I don't get a long at all, right? Obviously, during the war. But even now…He gives me these simpering looks full of pity and it makes me sick…"

Charlie started laughing. "He's as bad as Percy with the self-righteous priggishness."

Draco looked shocked. "Ron would be furious if you compared him to old Pinhead Percy." Then, realizing he insulted another one of Charlie's brothers, Draco muttered, "Sorry. But that's what we called him."

Charlie laughed again. "No, listen, I get it. They're my brothers. I know them. I know they're obnoxious sometimes. But I do love them." He looked seriously at Draco, hoping he would understand.

"I've managed to insult the twin and your parents at the hospital, Ron and Percy right now-who's left? Maybe I should just insult all of you Weasleys at one go, so you can be mad at me and get it all over with at once." Draco muttered. He was blushing a little, two spots of color high on his cheeks.

"I have a better idea. Let's go shower. And, I guess it's my turn to figure out the next date?"

Draco grinned. "So we're, like, an 'us' now? We're a thing?"

Charlie hefted the box and brooms. He said in a low tone, seriously, "I'd like to be."

"Me too."

"Okay. Then we are. Let's go shower."

-  
Draco let out a little gasp in the changing room. His broom had left a wicked bruise on Charlie's thigh. There was a huge black and red welt about the size of Charlie's hand, and a small white, raised lump in the middle of it where the end of the broomstick had jabbed him. "Damn!" He reached out and touched the bruise. He startled Charlie, though. His quidditch shorts tangled around his legs and he almost fell. He shot Draco a dirty look, which made Draco start laughing.

"Here, sit down. Let me, I've got something for that in my bag." He rummaged around and produced a small jar. Charlie sat down on the bench, feeling silly because he was wearing only boxers. He opened it and a strong medicinal smell permeated the locker room. Draco scooped out a small finger-full of the thick grey paste. There were little flecks of green in it.

"What the hell is that?"

"It's for bruising. I made it. I'm pretty okay with potions and stuff." He leaned over Charlie and began rubbing it gently into the bruise. "Give it a few seconds to work, then you can shower."

Charlie looked at his leg incredulously. "You just healed that bruise in a few seconds."

"Yeah." Draco stepped into the stall to undress. He was still nowhere near being able to be in any state of undress near Charlie. Draco had always been lithe and on the smaller side. Charlie was, in Draco's opinion, a freak of nature. He was tall and muscled. In short, Draco felt physically inadequate. In fact, if he thought about it for any length of time, he wouldn't be able to figure out what Charlie saw in him. He exited the stall clad in a towel, and grabbed his shampoo and body wash. "It should be good, now. It doesn't matter if it gets wet or washed off, the healing has already started. It doesn't hurt anymore, right? No tenderness?"

Charlie touched the bruise, which was now a light yellow tinge, in disbelief. "Yeah, no, it's fine, no pain. No wonder you get to work at Saint Mungo's while you're still a student. I can't believe that. Can I get some of that?"

Draco spoke over the running water. "Sure. It's easy to make. I needed it a lot early on in the year. You can keep that jar; I've got a few in my room."

Charlie stepped into another empty shower stall and mulled over Draco's words. He showered quickly and emerged before Draco. He got dressed, and smiled when he realized that Draco was again dressing in the privacy of the shower stall. Charlie quickly brushed his hair and braided it tightly, except for the one or two strands that always managed to escape and frame his face. Draco finally emerged in charcoal gray turtleneck and slacks, with his blond hair sticking up all over the place. He walked to the mirrors and dropped his comb into the sink when he realized Charlie had crept up silently behind him. Charlie reached around him and picked up the comb.

"May I?"

"Uh…" Draco made eyecontact with Charlie in the mirror. Charlie was resting one hand on Draco's shoulder, and was holding the comb near Draco's fine, blond hair. "Uh..I, um, I guess?"

Charlie ran the comb through his fine blond hair, cast a drying spell, and quickly had it brushed into the style Draco preferred. They were both silent, Draco because he was sure his heart was beating so loudly and so fast that Charlie could hear it, and Charlie because he was just enjoying the moment.

Charlie reached around him to set the comb down. The motion brought their bodies close together, and Draco could smell Charlie's body wash. Charlie started rubbing Draco's neck. He worked his way down to Draco's shoulders, then upper arms. Draco closed his eyes and fought to keep his facial expressions neutral.

When Charlie leaned forward to whisper in Draco's ear, his bright red hair mixed with Draco's blond locks. He couldn't help but admire how the two colors complemented each other.

"Draco." His breath was soft on Draco's neck. Draco's eyes popped open in surprise. "Tell me why you'd need to invent a potion that heals bruises so rapidly?"

Draco flushed bright red. "I was just foolin' around in potions class." He avoided eye contact while lying.

"Young man." Charlie said in a tone of disapproval. "I'd rather you told me 'I don't want to tell you,' than you lie to me, Draco Malfoy." Charlie's hands stilled on Draco's shoulders.

Draco felt suddenly claustrophobic. He couldn't move, he felt pinned by Charlie's hands, even though they were barely resting on his shoulders. Draco placed his hands on the sink for balance and took a shaky breath.

Draco exhaled and immediately shut down. At his father's insistence, Draco's Aunt Bellatrix had spent hours upon hours training him in occulmancy and legitimancy in the summers of his fourth and fifth years. It wasn't until his father handed him to the Dark Lord that Draco realized the significance of those summer lessons. Now, feeling trapped, Draco emptied his thoughts and pulled a small shield around his emotions.

Charlie was confused. He could feel that immediate change in Draco, but wasn't sure what caused it. He stepped back from Draco and sat on the bench.

"Draco." Charlie said his name softly.

Draco sighed and opened his eyes. He didn't turn around, though—only looked at Charlie's reflection in the mirror. Charlie made a subconscious decision to treat Draco like one of his beloved dragons. It was exceedingly dangerous to corner a dragon. Always, Charlie had found, it was best to earn their trust in slow increments. Eventually, if he waited long enough, the dragon would learn to respect, and trust, him. If he waited long enough, the dragon would eventually come running as soon as he saw Charlie in his territory.

Draco was no exception. Charlie straddled the bench and smiled at Draco. After a moment, Draco turned around. He leaned up against the sink and stared at his feet. "Yeah?"

"Can I rub your shoulders, again?"

Draco glanced up at Charlie, suspicious. Charlie raised his hands, palms out, and said, "Just a shoulder rub. That's it."

Draco sat down on the bench, one knee tucked up under his chin, and the other leg stretched out in front of him. Charlie scooted forward, a little, and repeated rubbing his neck, shoulders, and back. Even though Charlie could easily make a massage turn sensual, this was more about giving comfort and support. Not to say he didn't enjoy being able to touch Draco-even if it was through his thick turtleneck. Silence filled the locker room: Charlie maintaining his peaceful demeanor, but Draco seemed to grow more fidgety and uncomfortable the longer the silence continued. The third time Draco shifted his leg position, Charlie said mildly, "Yes?"

Draco took a deep breath and decided to try to explain himself to Charlie. He wasn't sure what made him want to be honest with Charlie, except perhaps that he felt completely safe around him.

"I felt cornered." Draco drew both knees up, crossed his arms and tucked his chin into his elbow.

"Mmmnnm." Charlie made a noncommittal noise, and kept kneading Draco's shoulders.

"I didn't want to tell you because it is embarrassing. And I didn't want you to be mad at me for not telling you. So I wasn't trying to lie. I never had the option of telling anyone no, before. Not my father, not the Dark Lord, not Uncle Sev, not my crazy Aunt Bella, not even my mum. So why should you be any different?"

Charlie ran moved his hands from Draco's shoulders, to the top of his neck. Charlie's hands were big enough that he was able to rub the behind Draco's ears and rolled his thumbs in little circles down his neck, at the same time.

"Do you feel like you have to impress me, or something?" Charlie asked the question very seriously. His hands continued to move over Draco, pushing gently into his hairline.

Draco flushed bright red and hunched over even further. Charlie could feel the heat in Draco's ears. Charlie continued unhurriedly, "I mean, you avoided talking about your father earlier, and you completely shut down when I asked you why you would need to learn how to rapidly heal bruising. If you're afraid of how I'll react to something you say, then I need to apologize to you. I'm sorry I've made you feel that way. I don't want you to be embarrassed or uncomfortable with me." Charlie felt Draco still, completely. He quit massaging Draco, and instead just rubbed his back in the same comforting figure eight that Molly used when he was young and woke up from a nightmare, scared.

"But I would prefer if you just said that you didn't want to tell me, instead of lying. That kind of hurts my feelings, being lied to, you know." Charlie paused for a second, then changed gears without so much as a warning. "So, I was thinking, you could come visit me up in Wales."

The sudden shift in topic was too much for Draco, and he sat up in shock and sputtered a response. "Wales? What? What are you talking about?"

"Well, spring holiday is coming up for you, right? If your homework load isn't too much, you could come stay up in Wales with me. It isn't much, I mean, it's not a real house. I'm in charge of the Dragon Reserve up there. The rest of the Dragonists and Dragon Tamers are going to be escorting a Peruvian Vipertooth down to Australia for a conference. Well, except Larry Spatford and Diane Lajiness—but they're babysitting a Welsh Green with a bad case of scale-rot, so they'll be on the other side of the reserve. I'll be relatively free—just have to make sure they're fed. And I could introduce you, if you wanted."

Draco turned around, all of his moodiness vanished at the prospective chance of meeting a dragon. "Introduce me to a dragon?!"

Charlie smiled at the tone of excitement. "Yeah. And dragon stuff is really useful for potions, right?"

Draco's eyes widened when he realized what Charlie was offering. "Yeah, scales, teeth, snot, blood, horns, nails, bones, eggshells, even their dung is useful. You mean, like, I could collect that stuff? Do you know how expensive it is?!"

"Well, if you want to fight a dragon for one of his bones, that's on you. But yes, the scales always fall out, all over the place. That's how the Reserve funds itself, you know. We sell Dragon products." Charlie smiled.

"I'd love to! I don't care if I have homework or not. I can really stay with you?"

"Sure can."

Draco grinned. "You probably want to go check in on your sister, huh? Can you send me an owl with how to find your place?"

"Yeah, I'll give you a map." Charlie smile seemed to grow even bigger.

Draco shoved the Quidditch Ball Box unto a locker, along with his broom. He grabbed the picnic basket from Pebsie and stopped at the locker room door. "Hey, Charlie? Thanks for the game. I miss playing Quidditch a lot."

Charlie nodded, "Me too." and before he could blink, Draco had taken off for the castle.


	6. Mothers and Sisters

Charlie waited a few minutes after Draco left, and then took a more circuitous route to the castle. He wanted anyone who spotted him to think he was coming directly from Hogsmeade.

This time, when Charlie neared the schoolhouse, he was stopped by Filch. "Hey, you old Squib! I'm here to see Ron and Ginny, but I suppose you're going to threaten me with the chains."

Filch glowered and muttered some impolite profanities. "You have to check in with the headmistress."

"Of course. Care to escort me?" Charlie grinned at Filch, and continued to stride purposefully down the halls.

"Yer two brothers, Bill and, what was his name? Padraic? Perrin?"

"Percy." Charlie supplied.

"Yeah. Percy and Bill, and you, I reckon, you's never gave me much trouble. Them twins o' yurn, now, and Ronald…" Charlie tuned out Filch's attempts at small talk, and soon enough they were at the staircase to Headmistress McGonagall's office.

Filch took his ratty old hat off and then knocked on the door. While he waited for McGonagall he twisted it furiously. Charlie leaned up against the doorway.

"Enter."

"Headmistress! I found this one lurking near the gate to Hogsmeade, so I brought him to you."

McGonagall stood up and peered past Filch. "Oh, Master Charles Weasley! Dear, how are you?" She welcomed her former student with a hug.

"Thank you Filch. If that is all?" Filch glowered but left her office silently.

"Hey, Prof. How are you?" Charlie grinned at his old Head-of-House.

"I'm fine, fine, this year has been difficult, trying to get back on track. The Carrows never should've been permitted to graduate from this fine establishment, much less teach at it." A moue of disgust crossed her face, and vanished and she changed topics. "Your sister, and brother, are doing quite well. I trust that all is well at home?" McGonagall transfigured her trusty paperweight into a chair for Charlie, and sat down again.

"Oh, yeah, Bill and Fleur are fine, Fleur is pregnant and miserable because she's 'fat.' Mum and Father of course are excited to be grandparents. George has Katie and Angela helping him out with the shop. They're slowly recovering from Fred's passing, we all are. And Percy is doing his ministry thing. Although I heard he's been assigned to the Ministry Owlery, and he's not very happy about it." Charlie tried, unsuccessfully, to keep the grin off his face.

"What about you?" McGonagall flicked her wand to send instructions to the house elves for refreshments.

"Well, I got the posting for Head Dragonist and Gamekeeper at the Dragon Reserves in Wales. So I'm much closer now, to Mum's relief."

"That's very wonderful—and Head Gamekeeper? Quite an accomplishment for a Dragontamer so young. What brings you to Hogwarts? Has Hagrid found another egg?" The house elf appeared with a giant platter of scones, tea, and cookies. Charlie helped himself to the cookies.

Charlie laughed. "No, actually, not Hagrid, or my siblings."

"No?" McGonagall's eyebrows shot up in surprise. She set her teacup down.

"Yeah. Actually. I was at Saint Mungo's last weekend. One of your students was of great help to me. I stopped by to see him. Of course, I'd also like to see Ron and Ginny. And maybe Harry, remind him that it's my sister he's dating."

Minerva laughed out loud, "Ron reminds him of the same thing quite often. Well, let me check their schedules." She accio'ed a giant box of index cards and began rifling through them. She found the one she wanted and read it silently. "You can probably find Ron and Harry in Potions with Hermione, they'll be free in an hour. And Ginny should be wrapping up Herbology and headed to Care of Magical Creatures right now. You're free to wander the school, Charles."

"Hey, Prof? I invited Draco Malfoy to come visit me at the reservation. Can he use your Floo to get there? I think it might be good for him. He seems troubled."

"Charles. Don't try to feed me that rubbish. I saw you playing Quidditch with him." McGonagall shot Charlie a level look.

"It was a great game, too." Charlie said, impishly.

"Indeed. We never lost a game with you as Seeker." They shared a grin, and silent memories, before McGonagall continued.

"Charles, are you pursuing him romantically?"

Charlie blushed as red as his hair and squirmed under McGonagall's penetrating look. Just because he'd come out to his family didn't mean he was really comfortable announcing his sexual orientation to the world.

"Oh, come now, Charles. I've known you're gay since you were a first year. No shame in it. Dear old Dumbledore was, too. It's just how you're wired. I suspect dear Arthur didn't take it very well, did he?" Charlie rolled his eyes at the memory of their fight over dinner, which caused McGonagall to smile. "Mmm. Yes, well, he kissed Amos Diggory when they were 3rd years." McGonagall continued despite the look of shock that Charlie wore. "Now, listen. Severus passed the responsibility for Draco to me before he died. So, even though you are possibly my favorite student in recent memory, I will be furious, and possibly never forgive you, if you hurt him. That being said, I think he needs this. There's a lot of damage on his soul. Besides, I think this will be good for you, too. You're lonely, and it's why your mother worries for you." Minerva leaned back and crossed her arms. Charlie sat in complete silence, totally stunned.

After a minute, Charlie asked, "So, you're, like, his_ godmother_ now? Since Snape's gone?"

McGonagall nodded.

"Does he know?"

McGonagall shook her head. "It's for the best. He wouldn't welcome the idea yet, I don't think."

"And my dad kissed Mr. Diggory."

"Well I wouldn't go mentioning it to anyone, or even him for that matter, if you value your relationship with your father. But yes, Madam Pince caught them in the library. Molly was quite upset."

Charlie laughed at the absurdity of the claim. "Okay. Well, I'm going to go check on Ron and Ginny. And with your permission, I'd like it if Draco could visit over next week's holiday."

"You don't really need my permission, since he came of age earlier this year. But than you for asking." She stood up and walked him to the door. "Thank you for stopping by, Charles."

Charlie gave his favorite professor a hug and headed out to the grounds in search of his sister. She spotted him before he found her, though.

"CHARLIE!" Ginny let out a whoop and ran up the hill toward Charlie, forgetting her friend, the Greengrass girl. Charlie couldn't remember her name—Astrid or something. She smiled and waved tentatively at Charlie, then opened her one of her textbooks.

"Hey sis." Charlie picked her up in a bear hug and spun her around. It was no secret that he was her favorite brother. Charlie had always been more patient with Ginny than the rest of the Weasley sons, willingly explaining over, and over, and over again how to ride a broom, or the Quidditch rules, or even helping her repair her dolls when she was a young child.

"Hey! What are you doing here? Mum's quite worried about you, she sent me a tearstained owl yesterday. Are you okay?" Ginny looked up at Charlie seriously.

"Oh, Dragon dung. Yeah, I'm fine. Dad and I had a falling out. Mum felt torn between us, you know, and ended up having to side with Dad because she always sides with Dad. I got my feelings hurt, is all."

"Well Mum seemed to think that you are refusing to answer her because you won't forgive her. What were you and Dad fighting about?"

Charlie started laughing. "You remember that conversation we had the summer before my 5th year? The one where I made you swear to never tell anyone because I was so embarrassed?"

"Oh, you didn't tell them you fancy men!" Ginny looked scandalized.

"Yeah. It kind of slipped out. Mum was trying to hook me up with Katie Bell."

Ginny gave her brother a fierce hug. "S'okay, Char. I love you. But Katie would be an okay sister. She's better at Quidditch than Hermione, anyway." She grinned mischievously at her brother. "So how'd Mum and Dad react then?"

Charlie hugged his sister close and felt emotion welling up. "Dad made me go to the hospital because he was sure I'd been hexed."

Ginny couldn't help it, she dissolved in a fit of giggles. "No way!"

Charlie laughed with his sister. "Yeah. I know."

"No wonder your feelings got hurt. So, have you found anyone yet? It's been almost 10 years since we had that conversation."

"I don't know. Maybe. But the family won't like him."

"We won't like him because it means you're officially gay, or we won't like him because he's a prat?"

"Both, probably."

Ginny elbowed Charlie. "C'mon now. You have alright taste. If you've found someone it's probably a true statement that he needs you, and you need him, and you are going to both grow together."

This time, Charlie felt a tear threatening to fall with the emotion bubbling up inside him. He hugged his little sister close again.

"Oh come off it, Char." Ginny laughed and pushed away. "So who is he?"

Charlie blew her question off with one of her own, "So how's the Gryffindor Quidditch team this year?"

Ginny grinned and let her brother change topics. "Oh, we're squaring off great! Harry as Seeker, obviously, with me as his alternate when I'm not a Chaser. Ron of course is much improved as Keeper, the trick we found is to keep him from thinking about the match until the last second. The other two Chasers are not bad, they're 4th years. I have no idea where Harry found our two Beaters, but they're almost as good as Fred and George. They're a lot brawnier, they're only second years. We've not lost yet. Ron and Harry both say I'm going to be captain next year."

Charlie did muss her deep titian red hair this time, on purpose, rubbing the top of her head. "That's great, sis. I'm not sure who's more competitive, you or those two. Maybe I can catch a game on a weekend. Being in Wales is much more convenient than Romania, that's for sure."

"I'd like that."

"Hey now, speaking of Harry..." Charlie trailed off, which caused Ginny to prompt him, with raised eyebrows, "Yes?"

"You two aren't, you know...I mean, you're being, you know, safe, right?"

"If we ever make it past kissing, we'll be safe." Ginny crossed her arms and glared at Charlie.

"You two haven't? You've only kissed?" Charlie felt relief wash over him-Ginny was much too young to have a boyfriend, in his opinion.

"Every time he kisses me, it seems one of you lunkheads I've got for brothers interrupts us. So, no! I haven't had a chance-" Charlie cut off his sister with a loud shushing noise.

"Shhh! Shh! I don't want to know. You're gonna stay a virgin, even if he does marry you. Got it?!"

Ginny rolled her eyes. "You're as bad as Ron."

"Speaking of Ron, according to McGonagall, he's in potions. I have to get going, can you tell him hi for me?"

"Of course. I love you, Char!" Ginny gave her brother another fierce hug.

"Love you too, Ginnybinny!" She stuck her tongue out at the horrid nickname, then caught up with Astoria, who was waiting patiently, lost in her book.

Charlie walked back through Hogsmeade, just wandering the streets. Ginny's words about Molly's 'tearstained owl' kept reverberating around in his head. Charlie was mostly hurt by his parents' reaction. It wasn't in his nature to get angry. If he calmed down long enough to evaluate the situation, he realized that he did have Molly's support, and she would not let this tear apart her family. So, eventually, Charlie would also have Arthur's support. It was just like when he told them he was dropping out after his OWLs to go work with dragons. Still, Charlie wasn't sure if he was ready to deal with his mother face-to-face.

He decided to stop at the Post Office and send her an owl. He had to send one to Draco, too.

"Mum,  
Just spoke with Ginny-she says you're worried. Please don't be. I'm not angry. I'm hurt. Give me some time. I love you. Give my love to father as well.  
Your son no matter what,  
Charlie"

"Draco-  
You can come by Floo if you want: Dragon Master Lodge is the stop. I think McGonagall will let you use her Floo. You can't apparate into the grounds, we have wards up because some of the more wild dragons are dangerous and we don't want folks landing by mistake. Or, you can apparate to the gates and I can meet you. If you want to fly, I've sketched a map on the back. Let me know which you'd prefer.  
Thanks again for the Quidditch match. I had a lot of fun.  
-Charlie"

He paid in advance for the Owls, and sent his two letters on their way. Then, he apparated to Diagon Alley. If he was having company on Monday, then he was going to need to do some grocery shopping.


	7. Holiday Countdown

Draco rubbed his eyes and yawned. He glanced at the large grandfather clock and was surprised to see that it was almost 3 in the morning. He had spent almost the entire night in Snape's office, reading. Goyle was in one of his moods, again—probably a result of his failed Apparation test. He was the only senior who still hadn't qualified; Draco was pretty sure Professor Tycross was ready to give up on him ever getting his license. Apparently, according to Fray, Goyle had left his clothes behind during his last attempt. Draco figured he could make it from the second floor office to the dungeons without Filch or Mrs. Norris catching him. Actually, Mrs. Norris generally left the Slytherins alone after Crabbe and Goyle had shaved her their third year.

Draco carefully marked his place in the thick leather volume and placed it back on the shelf with the other forty-something books. It hadn't taken him long to realize that Uncle Sev had been journaling since before he got to Hogwarts, and he eagerly started reading the chronicles from the beginning. His earlier volumes were amusing, childhood concerns and frustrations, and an almost nauseating obsession with this girl he referred to as "L." Of course, Uncle Sev had also hated James Potter with the same level of loathing that Draco felt for Harry. Draco had been surprised to learn that his father was the Sytherin Prefect when Severus was a first year. He was, however, not surprised in the slightest to learn that Uncle Sev did not much like some of his professors. According to his journal, "The Slytherin House Head is Slughorn. He's as slimy and fat as a slug, and a twofaced blowhard with an overwhelming aura of ignorance." Draco hadn't realized just how intelligent and critical of thought Severus was—reading his journals, Draco thought he could've easily been a Ravenclaw.

With a back-arcing stretch, Draco slipped his robes back on, and mumbled a _muffilato_ charm to prevent anyone from overhearing him on the stairwell. He crept down the darkened passageways and made an impulsive decision to visit the kitchens. The tangerine rolled around in the bowl, perhaps annoyed at being wakened so late. The portrait opened up slowly, and Draco ducked inside. The kitchens, normally thick with the aroma of food and bustling with activity, was unusually silent.

"Pebsie?" Draco whispered. He was met with silence, so he began snooping through the cabinets and chillboxes. He was sure to find something to munch on.

Pebsie materialized on the countertop, and when Draco stood up with a bunch of grapes he'd pulled out of the chillboxes, he yelped in surprise.

"Pebsie didn't meaning to scare Master Malfoy!" The little house elf pulled her ears down to her chin and looked solemnly at Draco. Draco grinned at her.

"I'm sorry to wake you up, Pebsie."

"Bad dreams are bothering Master Malfoy again?"

"Well, I didn't sleep, so no, no dreams tonight." Draco hopped up on the counter next to Pebsie and offered her a grape.

Pebsie tugged on her tea-cosy skirt. "I thinks Master Malfoy is wanting some hot chocolate."

Draco laughed and nodded his head. Pebsie scurried off and Draco finished the rest of the grapes. Within minutes, Pebsie had returned with a giant steaming mug. The whipped cream was melting into the chocolate and it smelled amazing.

"You must be sleeping, Master Malfoy." Pebsie reached out and touched the dark circles under Draco's eyes. "The dreams are leaving bruises."

Draco made a noncommittal grunt and drank some of the hot chocolate.

"I was reading. It wasn't nightmares. I'm headed to bed right now." Draco raised his hand, "honest."

Pebsie sat down next to Draco and rested her head him. Within seconds she was snoring loudly. Draco carefully extricated himself, and grabbed a dish towel to provide Pebsie a pillow. He took the mug of hot chocolate with him as he worked his way through the dimly lit halls to the dungeons. He stood at the stone wall and muttered this week's password of "damnant quod non intelligent," and walked into the common room when the entrance appeared.

Draco glanced around and noticed that there was only one present was Theodore Nott. After a quick glance up from his book he went back to reading, ignoring Draco.

Normally Draco was content to let the non-aggressive Slytherins ignore him—enough were vocal, and physical, about their distaste for anything Malfoy. However, tonight, when it was just him and Theodore, he took a chance at conversation. "Goyle still in a mood?"

"Why do you think I'm down here?" He shook the book, "It certainly isn't for the riveting qualities of Magical History. The daft tosser is up there ranting on and on about the bloody apparition license. I'm surprised the place is still standing. Zabini is still in astronomy, but he should be back shortly. He said if Goyle is still acting the fool he's going to hit him with the _confringo _curse."

Draco smirked, knowing full well how destructive Goyle was when things weren't going his way. "Mind if I join you?"

"Take a seat. There's going to be fireworks when Zabini gets back. Especially if Goyle trashed his stuff.

"He really left his clothes behind?"

Nott busted out with a laugh. "Yeah. At least a shoe and the robes. I heard he was naked as the day he was born but that's probably not true. Unfortunately."

Draco smiled, and leaned back in the chair. Less than twenty four more hours and he'd be on spring holiday. He couldn't wait to get away from Hogwarts—this would be better than spending Friday nights at Saint Mungo's.

Draco fell asleep almost instantly. A few short hours later he woke to Pansy Parkinson shaking him. "Get up, you're going to be late."

"Hmm? What time is it?" Draco rubbed his eyes and tried to stretch the crick out of his neck.

"Almost eight."

"Shit! I've got transfiguration!" Draco jumped up, and tried in vain, to straighten his rumpled robes.

"Here." Pansy handed him a napkin filled with toast and bacon.

"You know, for a complete bitch, you're a really nice girl sometimes, Pans." Draco took the breakfast gratefully.

"Don't tell anyone. Might ruin my reputation." Draco rolled his eyes in response, and took a huge bite of bacon.

"This doesn't mean I'm going to talk to you in public, now, though."

"Oh, of course not, Pansy. Merlin forbid that someone think less of you because you've been seen associating with the heir of the disgraced Malfoy family." Draco tried to keep the bitterness out of his voice, but wasn't successful.

"We've always understood each other, Draco. I'll see you in potions." Pansy turned with a smile and walked away brusquely. Pansy and Draco had always been close, until she'd tried dating him. Draco just wasn't attracted to her warm curves and cute upturned nose. She was more, or less, the sister he'd never had. They'd gotten along marvelously as prefects, and if Draco was completely honest he'd always loved her sharp wit—even when her scathing comments were directed at him.

Draco rolled his eyes again and hurriedly followed her out of the Slytherin commons.

After sprinting down the corridors, Draco made it to Transfiguration on time, although his unkempt appearance did earn him a cross look from McGonagall. The classwork was mundane, except halfway through Ron Weasley successfully turned a book into a fluffy bathrobe. Draco was the only one not excited about this development; Ron would be joining Hermione and him in the "proficiency practice" side of the classroom. He contemplated asking McGonagall if she considered him proficient enough to attempt something new, like learning how to take on an animagus form. At least then he wouldn't be stuck watching Weasley and Granger fawn over each other.

Finally, the two hours were finished. Draco had Charms immediately after Transfiguration, followed lunch and then Herbology. Then, he was free for a whole week. McGonagall stopped him as he trudged past her desk.

"Master Malfoy."

"Yes, ma'am?" He turned and shoved his hands in his pockets.

"I understand you'll have need of the Floo Network this week." She pursed her lips and looked sternly at him over her hornrimmed glasses.

"Yes?" Draco's voice carried a note of surprise.

"Master Charles spoke with me. Now, Hogwarts does not allow students to use the Floo to return home—they're supposed to take the Hogwart's Express. I trust I will not be receiving any inquiries from your mother regarding your whereabouts?"

Draco flushed bright red. "He did? What did he say?"

"That he had extended the invitation for a tour of the Dragon Reserve for you as thanks for your assistance during his stay at Saint Mungo's. You _did _want to go, didn't you?" A hint of a smile appeared at McGonagall's lips.

"Oh, yes, of course. I was just, uh, surprised he contacted you." Draco fumbled to regain his composure. He wondered if that was all Charlie had told McGonagall.

"Now. If your mother contacts me complaining that you never arrived home, I will have to tell her where you are. Unless, of course, I see you board the train tonight. If you manage to sneak off the train, and utilize the Floo in my office while I'm supervising the first years onto the train, then I will simply tell Narcissa that I saw you board the train and we can be done with it. "

Draco laughed. "Headmistress, that's practically Slytherin of you."

"Well, don't tell anyone." She patted Draco's arm fondly.

"Yes, ma'am." Draco couldn't help grinning.

"It'd be better, and wiser, if you returned to Malfoy Mansion and left from there, but you are of age now. I see no reason to continue to treat you as a child. You'd best get on with you now, you'll be late for Charms."

The rest of the day was a big of a blur for Draco. He was exhausted from his late night, and he couldn't focus on anything other than his visit to Charlie's. After Charms he hurried to the 7th Year Dorm and hurriedly packed. He was relieved to note that nothing was damaged from Goyle's fit. And, since there was a conspicuous lack of burn marks, he assumed that Zambini didn't get the chance to _confringo _Goyle. Or else, Draco thought, the house elves had been in the room and cleaned already. Draco packed with great care-what does one wear when meeting a dragon, anyway?-and once everything was neatly packed into his luggage chest he hurried off to Herbology.

Charlie had never felt the need to impress anyone. Ever. He didn't even clean when he knew his mum would be popping in for a visit. Then again, Charlie was a little bit on the neat side, so it wasn't like he'd hear one of her "Being Clean Impacts The State Of Your Mind" speeches that she was always hurling at Fred and George.

That being said, Charlie had suddenly felt the need to impress Draco. He'd given up on trying to find clothes that were more impressive than his sensible, low slung jeans and sweaters. He never had much fashion sense, and secretly thought Draco would laugh at his attempts to "dress up." He knew that Draco came from money—what wizard hadn't seen Malfoy Mansion and the beautiful swans wandering across the acres of green grass and swimming in the glass lake?—but Charlie had zero experience with high society. The Burrow was warm, and comfy, and full of life. It was not a mansion. Charlie didn't grow up with the same level of luxuries that Draco had, like house elves or butlers or maids: if you wanted lunch in the Burrow, you fixed it yourself. All that combined to make Charlie nervous about company.

Charlie had two places he called home on the Dragon Reserve. One was a small portable tent that was standard issue to every Dragonist. It was, of course, much more spacious on the inside. It allowed him to move from one dragon's territory to another, easily. The other spot Charlie called home was a little more permanent. It was a cozy log cabin that the Head Dragonist had to himself. The rest of the Dragonists shared a huge bunkroom several kilometers down the worn dirt road. A wraparound porch was bedecked with the simple furniture Charlie made—and a grill. Charlie's dad had brought one home when he was young—Bill, Charlie, and Arthur were fascinated with this Muggle cooking method. Cooking food over an open flame seemed so barbaric and something from the dark ages. However, they quickly discovered that not only was grilling delicious, it was a lot of fun, too. Molly and Arthur had given him this grill and several bags of charcoal as a housewarming/promotion present.

The cabin was divided into two rooms—the bedroom, and a giant living room/kitchen/dining area. His broom was mounted next to the door, and his worn guitar sat in the corner, with a battered notebook scrawled with lyrics and various chords. He'd had a devil of a time getting the shabby stuffed couch into the house (for some reason he couldn't make the Ruduccio charm stick on this particular piece of furniture) but with the help of the other Dragonists they'd finally gotten it settled in front of the giant fireplace. Charlie had a patchwork quilt from his mother flung over the back of the couch. He'd folded it, and refolded it probably eight times while waiting for Draco to walk through his Floo. The table and chairs were sturdy, hand made from the oak trees that grew outside. They had a rough, hewn appearance that Charlie liked. He'd thought his furniture matched his personality. Now, though, he was worried if he should go find a table cloth or place settings, or whatever the things were called that his mom put out when they had company.

The one bedroom in his cabin was a huge concern for Charlie, as well. He grinned ruefully at himself for hoping they'd spend any time in here at all. With his luck, Draco would insist on sleeping on the couch the entire time. Or worse, take the tent and pitch it on his front lawn—if he decided to stay at all. Charlie had made sure the dresser was free of clutter—there were only a few pictures out. He'd also gone through the wardrobe and meticulously folded or hung up every single item. The bathroom, too, had been scrubbed within an inch of it's life. He'd actually owl'ed Ginny, and asked her for some of the nifty home-maker spells Molly had taught her. Ginny's bossy reply was that "Just because you can use Scourgify and Tergeo to clean, doesn't mean you should. If you're that worried about the state of your bathroom go buy some Ms. Skower's All Purpose Magical Mess Remover and scrub it by hand. I want you to remember that you came to me for relationship advice next time you see Harry kiss me."

Charlie had laughed at the letter and scrawled back, "No one is allowed to kiss you. Ever. Not even Harry."

Even with Ms. Skower's All Purpose Magical Mess Remover, Charlie wasn't sure if Draco would find his cabin at all appealing. Charlie sprawled out on the couch and realized that the real reason he was worried was because this cabin was very much a physical embodiment of Charlie's identity. If Draco turned his nose up at Charlie's accommodations, or made a snide comment, it would feel to Charlie as if Draco was rejecting him.

Charlie was so lost in his thoughts and worries that he didn't notice the fire in his Floo change to the bright green that signaled it was about to become a passageway.

Draco stepped through the flames and onto the hearth with practiced ease. He flicked his wand to ensure no charcoal smudges were left on his face or robes. A smile flickered across his face when he saw Charlie. He had one leg curled up over the back of the couch, and the other dangling off the cushions. He was so big that the couch didn't really look like it fit him very well.

"Hello, Charlie."


	8. Dinner and a Game

Here it is! Chapter 8! Finally! I'm sorry if the chess game is a bit much. I feel like it interrupted the flow of the story, a little. However, it is a really famous chess game (look up The Immortal Game if you want to see it play out. There are a few sites out there that show the pieces move-by-move and if you don't play chess and can't envision the game being played as they make their moves, it might be fun to follow along.) As usual, any comments and critiques would be welcome! Especially if ya'll think I need to tone down the chess moves...Please, let me know.

Anyway, enjoy!  
_

Draco's soft voice startled Charlie, and he had a small involuntary twitch.

"Hey! I didn't know if you'd be coming!" Charlie grinned welcomingly at Draco, who was staring around the room wide-eyed.

"So, um…this is my place. It's probably a little more—" Charlie paused, searching for the right word "rough, I guess, than you're used to, I reckon, but, ah, let me show you around?" Charlie was stammering, which was very out of character for him.

Draco grinned, "What I've seen so far suits you. I'd love it if you'd give me the tour."

Charlie wasn't sure if his response was from his good breeding and manners, if he was being sarcastic, or entirely serious. But he complied, and spread his arms. "Well, this is the living room. And dining room, and kitchen, I guess. That's my guitar. And broom. And, the bedroom you'll be staying in, is in here."

Charlie opened the door, and let Draco walk past him. "Did you have luggage? How long were you going to stay? You're welcome all week."

Draco pulled a small box from his pocket and set it on the bed. "_Engorgio_!" It quickly expanded to a regular sized trunk, black leather embossed with a gold M and Malfoy crest. Draco popped the latches and pulled out his broom. "Just in case." He grinned sheepishly at Charlie.

"Excellent! We'll have another round." Charlie smiled broadly.

"So, um, you hungry? Or does Hogwarts still have the end of semester feasts?"

"I'm famished. They still had a feast, but I didn't go."

"Really? They always had wonderful treacle tarts, oh, and the steaks, and shrimp, and lasagna. Man. They really put on a spread." Charlie grinned wistfully at the memories of years past.

Draco leaned on the end of the bed and smiled. "Yeah. The best food."

"Well, uh, this is no Hogwarts, you should know. I do all the cooking here. So, if there's something you want, let me know."

"You _cook?" _Draco asked incredulously.

"Well. Yeah. I mean, I don't have a house elf." Charlie shrugged, a little defensively.

"No, no, it's just that's really impressive. I don't know anyone who knows how to cook." He gave Charlie a curious look. "Can you cook well?"

Charlie put both hands up on the door frame and leaned into the room. He laughed at Draco's expression. "I feed myself okay. Mom taught me. I think I was the only one of the boys patient enough. At least until she got Ginny. But I'll let you be the judge of my cooking. If you didn't have any preferences for dinner, I was going to make chicken tikka masala. Or I could fry the chicken and make biscuits, instead. Or make a pot-pie. Your call. And, uh, if you don't like it, we can go out and eat."

Draco didn't realize that Charlie was offering him a myriad of dinner choices because he wanted Draco to be comfortable. "Chicken tikka masala sounds great."

"Okay, chicken tikka it is. Well, if you want to unpack, I'll be prepping dinner. Or, you can join me?" Keeping his hands on the door frame, Charlie pushed himself back out of the room.

Draco hefted his trunk to the floor. "Let's go."

Charlie moved around the small kitchen with a practiced ease. He had obviously learned well from Molly—a small flick of the wand set the knives to chopping ginger, peppers and green onions, and another flick had the chicken simmering in the yogurt and spices stirring in the skillet. Draco sat down at the table and watched Charlie with unveiled curiosity.

Charlie scooped the mixture over a heaping bowl of rice and announced, "I've got butterbeer, water, milk, bubble juice, and gillywater. Oh, and tea or coffee."

"Just water, thanks." Draco was a bit overwhelmed. Charlie lived very differently from anything he had ever seen before. There was a sense of self-sufficiency in this log cabin; Draco felt out of his element. Just like in the locker room, Draco was impressed by Charlie and felt that he didn't measure up to this older man.

Charlie set the bowl and glass of water down in front of Draco, and took a seat opposite him with his own heaping meal. Charlie immediately helped himself without any ceremony, so Draco followed suit. They were both unusually quiet, lost in their thoughts.

"Your mom taught you to cook very well." Draco broke the silence first.

"Thanks! It's actually kind of fun. It's like potions, but without shit blowing up on me all the time." At this, Draco snickered.

"Don't laugh, I'm being serious. I'm terrible at potions." Charlie brandished his spoon at Draco with a smile.

The two fell silent again, but this time Charlie felt the need to speak. In his usual blunt, honest approach, he told Draco, "You know, I'm really nervous about you being here."

Draco almost choked on the water he was trying to drink. "What?"

"Yeah. I'm just nervous that you won't like it here. I mean, it's not really fancy or anything. But, it's mine, and I like it. And I want you to be comfortable." Charlie made his speech in the same calm, imperturbable tone that Draco remembered from the locker room. If Draco hadn't heard Charlie just confess to being nervous, he never would have guessed. Charlie set his spoon down, and looked at Draco. He was chewing on the inside of his lip, but Draco saw the honesty in Charlie's eyes. He didn't need legitimancy to see through that he was speaking truthfully when he said he was really concerned with Draco's comfort and enjoyment.

Draco couldn't hold the intensity of Charlie's gaze. He started down at the wooden table, examining the knots and patterns in the smooth surface. After a moment he spoke, "Well, I guess, in the interest of us being honest with each other, you should know I'm very nervous about being here."

"Aw, man." Charlie sighed and leaned back in his chair.

"Oh, no, no. Not because of you. Well, yeah, because of you. But not—Merlin. I'm not making any sense." Draco shoved the food around his bowl and finally set the spoon down. "See? That's what I'm talking about. You make me nervous. Not being here-I like it here. But we could be anywhere, and I'd be nervous. I had a terrible case of the nerves on Wednesday during our match."

"You really like it here?" Charlie leaned toward Draco, putting his elbows on the table.

"Yeah, it suits you. It isn't anything like the Manor. When I go home, it's stifling. But your home is cozy. I mean, I haven't been here long, but I feel like I can relax."

Charlie grinned, his fears mostly assuaged. "Wait a minute. How do I make you nervous?"

Draco hurriedly took a huge bite of his dinner.

"Oh, that's cute, kid."

Despite having a mouthful of food, Draco managed to smirk at Charlie. He swallowed and quickly asked Charlie, "Can I meet your dragons?"

Charlie gave Draco a dirty look at his attempt to change the subject. "Well, it's going to be dark soon, so I think meeting the dragons should wait until tomorrow."

"Damn. Okay, well, you're the dragon expert."

Charlie stood up and gathered his dishes. He dumped them in the sink and tried to remember the dishwashing spell his mother used with such dexterity. Draco gulped down the last of his meal and followed suit. Charlie gave up and started washing the dishes by hand. Draco stood awkwardly behind him, not sure if he should help, until Charlie handed him a dishtowel and said "Here, you can dry."

Draco laughed and tossed the towel back to Charlie and said "_ventus!" _He proceeded to use the hot air charm he used to style his hair on the rest of the dishes Charlie handed him.

"Come on, let's relax." Charlie wanted to reach over and touch Draco's elbow, but until he found out exactly why Draco was uncomfortable in the Lodge, he refrained.

He headed out of the kitchen, and plopped down on the couch. Draco followed him out of the kitchen, but didn't immediately sit down. He asked, "Do you play Wizard's Chess?"

"Yeah. Ron stole my board though."

"I brought mine." This news made Charlie smile.

"Excellent! Let's play!"

Draco headed to the bedroom to grab the board, and Charlie called out after him, "Hey, grab the pillows."

Draco complied, but he stood in the doorway with one hand clutching the chess set and the other brandishing the pillows. "What kind of Wizard's chess do you play that requires pillows?" When he saw that Charlie had spread the quilt from the couch in front of the fireplace and was laying lazily on it, he shrugged and said, "Oh."

He tossed the pillows at Charlie, who promptly tucked one under his chest. "You were expecting to sit at the table?"

"Well, yeah."

Charlie smiled and patted the quilt in front of him. "Nuh uh. This house is 'cozy.' Lay down."

As Draco set down the chessboard and tucked the pillow under his chest, he wryly observed, "I thought that if we were laying down together we'd be taking off our clothes."

Charlie flushed bright red, and asked, "I thought you said I make you nervous?"

Draco started setting up the pieces.

"Ah. Okay, I know before I said you could just refuse to talk about something if it made you uncomfortable, but, kid, come on. You're sending me mixed signals. One minute you say you're nervous, and the next you're flirting." Charlie grabbed a handful of pawns and placed them on the board. "And you're adorable when you flirt, by the way."

Draco sighed, a little uncomfortable. "Are you being daft on purpose? I'm nervous because I like you." The tips of Draco's ears turned red.

Charlie dropped a rook in surprise. "Oh. Well that's not a mixed signal at all."

"You couldn't tell?" Draco shot Charlie a level look.

"Pawn to E4. I thought we had a few moments, yeah, but, kid, I'm not very experienced at having people in my life on a permanent basis. Also, I'm a lot older than you."

After ordering, "Pawn to E5," Draco was thoughtful for a minute. "What does age have to do with anything?"

"Pawn to F4. I'm eight years older than you. I'm might be looking for different things that you are."

Draco studied the board for a minute. "The King's Gambit. Nice. Pawn, take his pawn at F4." Charlie grimaced when his pawn was crushed into small pieces. Draco turned his attention back to Charlie. "Eight years is nothing. At the risk of sounding petulant, I'm legal, you know."

Charlie moved without hesitation. "Bishop, C4. I don't think you're a child, Draco. You've experienced more in two years than most people have to deal with in their entire life. However, when I want someone, I go after them. And I get them. And I have a good night, and the next morning, we go our own ways."

Draco interrupted Charlie with an order for the chessboard. "Queen to H4. Check."

Charlie responded without interrupting his conversation flow. "King, F1. But Draco, if I was trying to just get you out of your clothes, it would've happened before I left Hogwarts."

"Pawn to B5. A bit cocky, aren't we?" Draco brushed a stray hair out of his face and tucked it behind his ear.

"No. Experienced. Bishop to B5." They both watched as the Bishop annihilated the pawn. "Are you understanding what I'm saying? That I'm trying to have a relationship here, and I have no clue how to go about it?"

Draco studied the board while trying to come up with a response to Charlie's painful honesty. "Knight to F6." He turned his attention to Charlie. "I think we're doing okay on the relationship side. I thought we were, anyway. I mean, we had two dates that weren't complete disasters. Last time I dated it was a complete failure."

"Fuck your queen. Knight to F3." Charlie smiled. "I think this is a third date, and it isn't a complete disaster. I mean, you liked dinner, right?" He laughed.

"Queen to H6." Draco laughed and agreed, "Yeah, dinner was great."

"Pawn to D3."

Draco studied the board for a minute and then ordered "Knight to H5."

Rapid-fire, Charlie responded with "Knight, H4."

Draco again took a minute to analyze the board. "Queen to G5. In the interest of honesty, you should probably know that the only person I've dated, or even been physical with, was a girl from school." Draco shrugged at the surprised look on Charlie's face.

"I won't let you take my Knight, kid. Move to F5." Charlie ordered the Knight to safety and then rolled over onto his back and stared at the rough hewn log ceiling.

"Pawn to C6." Draco watched as Charlie rubbed his hands over his face and then rolled back over to glance at the board.

"Pawn to G4. How do you know you like guys, then, if you haven't even…Have you?" Charlie gave Draco a quizzical look.

Draco barely shook his head. "Knight to F6."

Charlie heaved a huge sigh, and rubbed the bridge of his nose. "Rook, G1."

"Pawn, take the bishop at B5." The silence was interrupted by the cracking of the little marble piece as it was smashed into smithereens. "Why are you sighing at me?"

"Because, fuck, kid. I can't explain this, to you. Pawn to H4." Charlie sat up, frustrated. He rested his elbows on his crossed legs and put his chin on his folded hands.

"Queen to G6. Why not?" Draco reached across the board and touched Charlie's knee.

"Pawn to H5. Because, I just can't!" Charlie sighed, exasperated.

"Will you leave my queen alone? Damn." Draco glared at the chessboard. "Queen, G5." He looked up at Charlie, seriously. "Could you try to explain it?"

Charlie didn't even glance at the board. He knew here Draco would move because it was the only option he'd been left. "Queen to F3. I guess. I mean, I told you that I don't have meaningful relationships, just mutual satisfaction. But that's getting old. Has been for a while, I guess." Charlie fell silent, so Draco took the moment to move.

"Knight to G8. If it kills me, that queen is getting out of there."

"Sure. Bishop to F4." Charlie grinned at Draco because he was again threatening his queen.

"Queen to F6. Damn!" Draco glared as his queen slid across the board to relative safety. "Well, if you're not looking for a romp, then why did you go to the effort of having me over, and cooking me dinner?

"Knight to C3." Charlie heard Draco's tone shift. He reached out and laid his hand on top of Draco's. "Hey, hey, I heard that."

"Heard what? And, Bishop to C5." Draco flipped his hand over, so their palms were touching.

Charlie ran his calloused fingers over Draco's wrist in little circles. "I heard in that tone that you think I'm not interested in you."

Draco pulled his hand away from Charlie.

"Oh, come on, kid."

Draco hugged the pillow to his chest. He kept his head down, his chin buried in the pillow. Charlie smiled because Draco's moods were so easy to read.

Charlie stood up; his sudden movement made Draco flinch. He picked up the board and moved it toward the hearth. The tiny chess pieces yelled at him to put them down. "Let me have this." Charlie tugged on the pillow, so Draco relinquished it, and sat up. Charlie tucked both pillows in one end of the couch, and then sat down in the middle of it.

"Come here, young man." He smiled at the look on Draco's face. His eyes were huge, but he stood up wordlessly. Charlie held out his hand, and Draco tentatively put his hand in it.

He tugged on Draco's hand until he pulled him close. Draco stood beside Charlie's legs, a little awkwardly, until Charlie said, "Relax, kid! I'm not gonna spank you. At least, not tonight. Here—" and Charlie picked up Draco and sat him across his lap, with his back to the pillows. Charlie smiled, because Draco refused eye-contact and his body was rigid with tension.

"Just calm down! I just want to hold you." At that, Draco took a deep breath and unclasped his hands.

Charlie had one freckled arm wrapped securely around Draco's lower back with his fingers splayed across his thigh. Charlie's other hand rested across Draco's knees. He brought his hand up and tilted Draco's face toward him. Draco closed his eyes because he didn't want Charlie to see his thoughts. He was upset because he felt that Charlie was rejecting him. He'd been so excited about visiting him—not only because it was a refuge from the downward spiral his life had become, but because he really was very attracted to Charlie. Draco internally scolded himself for having such high expectations—why would a Weasley be interested in a Malfoy?-but his silent monologue was interrupted when Charlie ran a rough finger across his high cheekbone, and down the length of his jaw. "Draco. Look at me."

Draco opened his eyes, warily. "Listen, Draco. I said I was done with one night stands. I don't want this," he spread his free hand across Draco's heart, "to be a one night stand."

Charlie felt the effect his words had because Draco's eyebrows shot up and he relaxed almost instantly. He tucked his face into Charlie's neck. Charlie moved his hand from Draco's chest and began idly playing with Draco's hair. "I am nervous, Draco. I'm nervous that I'm going to say or do the wrong thing that will scare you away. I'm even more nervous because you've never done this before. That puts a lot of pressure on me because I really don't want to hurt you in anyway—emotionally, physically, whatever."

The relief Draco felt when he realized Charlie wasn't rejecting him was palpable. Draco didn't trust himself to say anything without his voice wavering, so he just put his arm around Charlie and hugged him tight. "Hey, hey, now, it's okay…" Charlie pulled him close, rubbing his back in the same figure eight pattern. He planted a small kiss on Draco's temple. "Here, let's lay down." Charlie pushed Draco off his lap, gently, and then stretched out on the couch. Draco sat down, tentatively. Charlie wrapped his muscled arm around Draco and pulled him in close so they were spooning. Charlie tucked a pillow and his upper arm under Draco's head, and then put his hand back over Draco's heart. "Better?"

Draco nodded, and put his hand over Charlie's.

"Can you tell me what you want, or expect, from me, in our relationship?" Charlie nuzzled the top of Draco's head.

Draco shifted. "What about our chess game?"

Charlie laughed, which sounded booming to Draco since his head was tucked against his chest. "I've already won. Checkmate in seven moves. Quit avoiding my question."

"Hell no! No way you'll win!" Draco tried to push himself off the couch. Charlie tightened his arm around him, and threw his leg over Draco's hips, which left him pretty much helpless.

"If I win, in seven moves or less, you will answer three questions for me." Draco quit struggling against Charlie.

"That. Isn't. Fair!" Draco shoved and twisted but Charlie still held him firmly.

"I could just tickle you." Charlie slid his hand down Draco's chest and applied a slight pressure to the top of his thigh.

"Aurgh! Let! Go!" Draco's squirming intensified with the threat.

"So, seven questions then. One for every move it's gonna take me." Charlie squeezed once, which caused Draco to shriek.

"No!"

Charlie's fingers fluttered rapidly. Draco started yelling and trying to twist out of Charlie's grip. "Okay, okay OKAY! Okay, three questions. Not seven! Three. But you have to win in seven moves." Draco was panting and trying desperately not to wriggle anymore, in fear that Charlie would start tickling him again.

Charlie started laughing as he let go of Draco. Draco toppled off the couch onto the floor, which only caused Charlie to laugh harder. Draco attempted to straighten his clothing, and gather his dignity. Charlie, however, was still chuckling as he rolled onto his back and watched Draco pick up the board.

"Here, set it there. I don't need to look at the board. I want to hold you. Or rub your shoulders or something."

"No tickling." Draco shot Charlie a dirty look.

"Sure, sure, no tickling while we play. You might kick the board and lose the pieces." Draco set the board down and sat on the ground beside it. He leaned up against the couch. Charlie flung his arm around Draco's chest.

"One. Knight to D5." Charlie kissed the back of Draco's head.

"Queen to B2." Draco smirked as the queen trounced the poor pawn.

"Two. Bishop, D6." Charlie sounded a little bored.

"You are not even going to win. I'm destroying your pieces! Queen, take his rook, A1. And, check!" Charlie almost felt bad for the rook, which was now in little tiny pebbles.

"Three. King, E2."

"You aren't even going to look at the board? Bishop to G1." There was a tiny crunch as Draco's bishop demolished Charlie's remaining rook.

"Don't need to. Four. Pawn to E5."

"Knight to A6."

"Get ready kid, this is five. Knight to G7, take the pawn, and check." Charlie kissed the back of Draco's head again. "See it, yet?"

"No. King to D8.

"Six. Queen to F6. Check."

"That was stupid. Knight to F6, take his queen!" Draco couldn't hide the note of triumph in his voice until he saw the move Charlie was going to make. "Oh fuck! Fuck! Damn, that's mate." He added sadly, "Bishop to E7." His king fell over, and Draco pushed the board away in disgust. "I walked right into that one."

Charlie started laughing. "Come here, kid." He tugged on Draco's shirt. He stood up, and crawled onto the couch next to Charlie. It took a little shifting around on Charlie's side, but Draco was finally able to feel like he wasn't going to fall off the couch. Charlie kissed Draco's neck. "You are so charming when you're pouting." Draco made an inappropriate suggestion.

"Shhh. Just let me enjoy holding you, okay?" Charlie ran his hand up and down Draco's arm, and breathed in the scent of him. He really did like Draco's moods. It was like dealing with one of his dragons. The satisfaction Charlie felt when Draco was calm and trusting was worth dealing with him when he was angry, hurt, or upset. Draco twined his fingers through Charlie's, amazed at how small his hand seemed in Charlie's palm. He was still nervous, and maybe even a little terrified, of being here with Charlie. For some reason Charlie could sense the slightest of his feelings, and knew how to comfort him. This was a new thing for Draco—he'd never had anyone determined to understand and protect him. He sighed contentedly and held Charlie's hand tight, trying to lock this moment into his memory.


	9. First Kiss

Okay ya'll. You know what I'm gonna ask...Please leave a review already! Any feedback, at all!

"Okay. I'm ready." Draco announced, breaking the silence. He felt secure with the warmth of Charlie at his back. He watched the flames dance in the fire-place in front of the couch.

"Ready for what?" Charlie was confused. He continued rubbing Draco's arm. Draco and Charlie were laying on the couch, cuddling. Charlie had curled his much larger body around Draco and was enjoying feeling him that close. Holding Draco was something Charlie had wanted to do since he saw him walk through his Floo.

"For your questions. I'll answer them." Draco wrinkled his nose for a second at the memory of how Charlie destroyed him at Wizard's Chess.

Charlie laughed. "Oh, no, I'm not asking them now."

Draco tried to roll over, but Charlie was so big there was no room left. He ended up standing up and laying back down so he could face Charlie. He tucked his knee between Charlie's legs. "Why not?"

"For one thing—" Charlie pulled Draco's body close, "-I told you that you didn't have to tell me anything if you didn't want to do so."

Draco glared into Charlie's chest. "That wasn't the deal."

Charlie laughed, and ran his hand through Draco's hair. "Oh well."

Draco pulled back so he could make eye contact with Charlie. "What do you mean, 'oh well!'? That's rubbish!" Charlie tried not to laugh at Draco again, he really did.

"Well, I could answer your questions from earlier and we could be square." Draco was trying to work up the courage to touch Charlie's face.

"Why are you so intent on this?"

Draco was thoughtful for a minute, then asked, "If I can explain why, will that change your mind?"

"Umm…Maybe? It depends if your reason is good enough." Charlie gave his conditional agreement.

"Okay, well first, I don't like being beholden."

Charlie interrupted Draco with a belly laugh. "Beholden? Ha! Draco, if you recall, you seem to think that you're going to cash in a favour from our Quiddich game. So psshh. No."

Draco tried to cross his arms, but there simply wasn't room. "I wasn't finished."

Charlie leaned down and kissed Draco's forehead. "Okay, sorry. Finish."

"Thank you." Draco said stiffly. "Secondly, I think the reason I didn't want to answer your questions is because I didn't really trust you much. Then. But I do now. At least, enough to answer some of the more inconvenient questions you've asked."

Charlie regarded Draco silently. Finally he nodded. "Okay. Here're my questions. What's your favorite color? What do you want to eat for breakfast? What's your favorite Quidditch team?"

Draco frowned after the first question, but by the time Charlie was done he was glaring. "That's not what I meant."

Charlie smiled and said, "I know. But I want you to confide in me because you want to, not because you lost a silly bet. If you want to tell me how you knew you're gay if you've only been with one girl, or why you're angry at your father, or what was my other question? Whatever it was. If you want to tell me those things, I would love it. But I'm not going to force you. I already said that." Charlie ran a thumb over Draco's eyebrow to smooth away his angry expression. "Okay? So, your favorite color?"

Draco sighed. "Your other question was why I needed to invent a potion for rapid bruise healing."

Charlie tried to hide his smile but was unsuccessful. "Favorite color?" He said again, stubbornly.

"Green, Tutshill Tornadoes, and eggs, toast, bacon or ham."

"I can make a fry-up, sure." Charlie grinned.

"What about yours?" Draco finally brought his hand up and touched Charlie's face. He smiled as he ran his fingers over the light red stubble on Charlie's jaw.

"Oh, the Vultures. Vratsa Vultures for sure. They've got an excellent long-scoring strategy, and they're just always a good game to watch. As for my favorite color, there's a particular shade of green in the Welsh Green Dragon's scales, when sunlight hits it. It turns almost gold. That's probably my favorite color. And normally for breakfast I make eggs and toast and bacon. Sometimes I fry some potatoes too."

Draco ran his fingertips lightly over Charlie's lips. Charlie grabbed his hand, gently, and held his fingers there. He kissed Draco's fingers, and then said softly, "I like it when you touch me."

Draco couldn't help the smile that spread across his face. "Really?"

"Really."

The firelight reflected off Charlie's red hair, which was, as usual bound in a tight braid that rested between his shoulder-blades. Draco reached over Charlie's shoulder and tugged on the braid until he extricated it from between Charlie's back and the couch cushions. He worked the band with his thumb and forefinger and finally got it loose. Charlie watched with an amused expression. Draco undid a few inches of the braid, and ran his finger's through it. He twirled a few strands around his finger, and then, with a start, glanced up at Charlie's face.

"I've never seen your hair loose. It's always been in a braid. I just wanted to feel it." Draco hurriedly explained.

"Go ahead." Charlie leaned forward and kissed Draco's forehead. "I can take it all the way down, if you want."

Draco's eyes got big.

"Here." Charlie sat up, which caused Draco to almost fall off the edge of the couch. Their legs were a little tangled, until Draco sat up next to Charlie. Charlie slid off the couch so he was sitting on the ground. He reached behind him to push on Draco's thigh. "Scoot." Draco complied, and slid over so that either leg straddled Charlie. Charlie flicked his braid up into Draco's lap and then rested his chin on Draco's right knee. He ran his palm up and down Draco's shin.

Draco tentatively touched Charlie's braid. Charlie sensed his hesitation, so he told him, "You know, a few years ago, when I was home, Mum cut my hair brutishly short. I was so angry with her about it. Now I've let it grow even longer. I think out of rebellion."

Draco started unbraiding his reddish-orange hair. It fell in soft waves, and Draco gently ran his fingers through it. "Why would she cut this?"

"I know! Right!" Charlie was indignant. Draco ran his fingernails over Charlie's scalp, which made Charlie shiver.

"You really don't mind?"

"Hmm? Mind what?" Charlie looked over his shoulder. Draco quickly withdrew his hands.

"Me playing with your hair."

Charlie twisted around so he was kneeling in front of Draco. His hair curtained on either side of his face. Charlie reached up and put a hand on either side of Draco, and leaned in close. "Draco, I love it when you touch me."

Draco was certain that Charlie could hear his heart beat start racing. He lay a hand on Charlie's face. "Really?"

Charlie grabbed Draco by the hips and lifted him to the ground, so he laid across his body. Draco made a small screeching noise at the sudden tumble from the couch, but Charlie held him close, chest-to-chest. He crossed his arms over Charlie's chest and pulled himself up so he was almost eye-level with Charlie's chin. He put his knees on the ground on either side of Charlie. Draco, although not terribly small for his age, was considerably smaller in comparison to Charlie. Charlie ran his hands down Draco's back and cupped his ass. He felt Draco get hard, his dick pushed against Charlie's belly button.

Draco flushed a bright red. Charlie smiled and lifted his head to kiss his nose. "I'm going to tell you this now, so that you won't get upset at me later, okay?"

Draco tried to lift his groin off Charlie, to alleviate the growing pressure he felt between their bodies. Charlie, however, pushed firmly down on Draco's ass, which caused Draco to involuntarily writhe his hips. "I'm not going to sleep with you tonight, Draco."

He watched the emotions ride across Draco's face: embarrassment, confusion, hurt, rejection, disappointment. He felt Draco start to wrap his shields in place as he turned his face away, so he spoke softly. "Oh, young man, don't misunderstand me. I'm going to take and give every ounce of pleasure possible to your body." He leaned forward and brushed his lips against Draco's cheek. "I'm just not going to do it tonight. There's too many factors, okay? I want you. But we're going to do this slowly. Do you understand me?" Charlie put a small tone of authority into his voice.

Draco tried to roll off Charlie. Charlie rolled with him, and pinned him to the ground. He brushed his hair out of his face—it slid down his back in a red-gold cascade. He slid his hand under Draco's head and pulled him close. Draco struggled half heartedly. He wanted to get away from Charlie so he wouldn't see what he was feeling. He felt like he needed to get away from this room, away from the lodge. And, at the same time, he wanted Charlie to never let go of him.

Charlie tucked his face into Draco's pale neck, and whispered his name, "Draco, Draco. Draco, don't be like that. Come on. You're not listening to what I'm saying."

Draco quit struggling and closed his eyes. He could feel tears leaking, down his temples, so he took a deep breath. Charlie pressed his lips to Draco's neck, and opened his mouth and sucked gently. He ran his tongue in little circles against the pale skin. He felt Draco's erection grow against his leg, and had a little surge of satisfaction. Charlie slid off Draco and lay on his side next to Draco. He ran his hand down Draco's chest, and looped a finger into the waistband of his pants. He slid the back of his forefinger from one hip to the other, smiling when he touched the soft trail of white-blonde hair. "Look at me, Draco."

Draco shook his head. He hated how helpless and exposed he felt. Charlie ran his hand across the bulge in Draco's pants. He smiled when he saw the effect it had on Draco. He whispered, "Do you think the same thing isn't going on in my pants?" Draco's eyes shot open.

"You said you didn't want me."

Charlie laughed and kissed Draco's nose. "No, silly, I said I was going to wait. I want you. I just want to take this slow."

Draco looked down the length of their bodies. He was momentarily distracted by Charlie's hand, and what it was doing, but he did eventually notice that Charlie, too, had an erection. When Draco realized that Charlie was feeling the same way, and not rejecting him, Draco felt a huge sense of relief.

Draco wrapped his arm around Charlie's neck and tugged him closer. He whispered, "Kiss me?" Charlie smiled, and then leaned in to barely touch his lips to Draco's. His tongue shot out, for just a second, and wiped Draco's lower lip. Their lips pressed together, firmly, and Charlie's tongue darted out again. This time, his tongue swept across Draco's teeth and top lip. It didn't stop there, though; Charlie explored the sweetness of Draco's mouth, pressing his tongue to Draco's. He poured himself into Draco. He sucked, gently pulling Draco's tongue into his mouth. He drank Draco down in that sweet kiss. He nibbled on Draco's lower lip for a split second, and then pulled away. He looked cautiously at Draco, who still had his eyes closed.

"Was that okay?"

Draco dropped his arms from around Charlie's shoulder, and flung them out to either side.

"Fuck! You know full well that was more than just 'okay.' Damn. You're right. Experienced." Draco opened his eyes and smiled at Charlie. "Kiss me again."

Charlie laughed and was more than happy to comply. When he pulled back, again, a few minutes later, Draco started to pull up on Charlie's shirt.

Charlie caught Draco's hands and smiled. "Not yet. Slow."

"Fuck slow!" Draco was breathing heavily.

Charlie smiled and touched Draco's face. "I'm going to answer one of those questions I asked you. I think this will help you understand why I'm being so damn stubborn about this."

Draco sighed and leaned back on his elbows. "Please! Please explain, because I want you, Charlie." He sounded exasperated.

Charlie stood up and put his hand out for Draco. He hefted him to his feet and said "I'm going to make some tea. Did you bring pajamas?"

Draco padded after Charlie. "Well, normally I just sleep in boxers. But, ah, I was a little shy in the hospital, so this time, yeah, I brought some pajama pants."

"Go change. We might as well be comfortable." Charlie reached out and smoothed Draco's hair.

He put the kettle on to boil and set out two mugs. He fished around in the cabinet until he found the Sleepytime tea bags.

Draco emerged from the bedroom a few minutes later wearing green and gray striped flannel pants. His chest was milky white and smooth. Charlie grinned and said "We're gonna match. Here, watch the kettle." And he ducked into his bedroom to change, as well. He emerged with the same flannel pants and a gray wife-beater shirt. Draco couldn't help but notice that the wife-beater was tight on Charlie—although not excessively so. Draco could see Charlie's six pack abs through the thin cotton, and without the sleeves he was distracted by Charlie's upper arms. The kettle started to whistle so Charlie pulled it off the stove and poured it over the tea bags.

"Okay, when I was a fourth year, there was a beautiful man who was a seventh year. His name was Amin Pyrites. I used to watch him in the library when I was younger. I knew I was gay because of him—I never felt an attraction like that to a woman. He was my first crush, though, the first guy I ever felt attracted to, I guess." Charlie laughed, a little self-conscious. He handed Draco a mug of tea and walked back to the couch. Draco followed, curious.

"About halfway through the year he noticed me. He pursued me with an intensity. At first, I'm not sure if I was in love with him, or in love with being loved. Probably the latter—Bill always had the attention from Mum and Dad. Better grades, always had a hot girl on his arm, I was this dorky kid who was obsessed with dragons." Charlie sat on one end of the couch and Draco sat in the other; he spread the blanket over them. Charlie pulled Draco's feet into his lap and began rubbing them.

"So, Amin pursued me. Sent me owls with little notes every morning. Left me candies in my dorm room. Told me I was good looking, ate lunch with me. He spun this dream for me, of what we'd be after he graduated. I fell in love with him, hard. After a month of these romantic gestures, he told me that if I really loved him, I'd let him have sex with me. I wasn't really ready for that, but I didn't want to disappoint him. I didn't want him to stop loving me. I told him no, and he threatened to leave me. This went on for about a week."

Draco sipped the tea, and listened to Charlie with a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. Charlie was staring into his mug of tea. "Well, I finally gave in…Amin was rough, it wasn't a good experience." Charlie grew silent, lost in the memories. Draco watched Charlie intently.

When he finally spoke again, his voice was a little stiff, as if he were trying to distance himself from his thoughts. "He enjoyed himself though. Turns out, I wasn't the only guy he was going after. As soon as he scored with me, he ditched me. I'm ashamed to say that I begged him, offered him, anything he wanted. I knew that he was using me, and I didn't care, because I needed to have him pay attention to me. I completely debased myself for him. I walked in on him kissing Frank Rosier a few weeks later." Draco had finished his tea at this point, and set the mug on the floor.

He interrupted Charlie. "Can you hold me?"

Charlie smiled and set his half full mug on the ground before wrapping his arms around Draco. "I'd like that. I've only told this story to one other person and it's kind of hard for me."

"Who'd you tell?" Draco snuggled against Charlie's chest.

"Ginny. I was so upset, I couldn't eat for the rest of the term. Fortunately it was only a week or so before summer started. I came home and she was the only one who noticed something was wrong with me. She was a little young, I think, to understand everything, but she listened anyway and I poured out my heart and my hurt. I swore that I'd never be hurt like that again. I guess that's why I've never really tried having a relationship before, I don't want to hurt someone else either." Charlie ran his finger's through Draco's hair.

Draco mumbled something into Charlie's chest.

"What?"

He lifted his head and said, "Charlie, you aren't anything like Amin."

Charlie took a deep, calming breath and rested his cheek on the top of Draco's head. Tears threatened to fall. "Thanks, Draco."

Charlie slouched down in the couch, to get a little more comfortable. Draco was sprawled across the cushions and his chest, and starting to fall asleep. Charlie stared into the fire, lost in memories and thoughts. He rubbed Draco's back. Despite a very long string of one-night-stands and lovers, Charlie had never confided his story in anyone. He wondered why he felt the need to explain himself to Draco. He was a little relieved that Draco didn't try to comfort him, or analyze him. His simple address to Charlie's fears was exactly what he needed.

After a few minutes he realized Draco was breathing the heavy, almost snores, of the asleep. He smiled and held Draco gently for another half hour or so, then he gently extricated himself and scooped Draco up in his arms. Draco shifted in his sleep to tuck his face into Charlie's neck. He carried him quietly into the bedroom and set him gently in the bed. He pulled the thick down comforter over Draco and tucked a pillow under his head. Charlie reached out and ran his fingers through Draco's pale hair. He looked beautiful. Charlie sighed and headed out to the living room. He sprawled across the couch and stared into the dancing flames as his thoughts and memories threatened to overwhelm him.


	10. Exploration

Sorry for the long wait! It's been a busy week at work. Not a valid excuse, I know!

A special thanks to Kim for her reviews. I didn't realize that there were so many incorrect ways to spell Mcgonagall...I'm pretty sure I hit on all of them! I've also noticed a few minor grammatical/spelling errors (and Madam Pomfrey's first name...when I initially wrote my rough draft I couldn't think of it so I just gave her the name Rochelle, and I missed one or two when I went to change it to Poppy.) I'm about to fall asleep, but I wanted to get this uploaded immediately! I will get those errors corrected tomorrow! As always, criticism, constructive or destructive: I welcome it! Please give me feedback!

A warning, things are starting to heat up betwixt these two, even though Charlie wants to keep things at a slower pace, Draco can't help himself! So, you've been warned...

Enjoy!  
-

A loud shriek startled Charlie awake. He jumped up from the couch while simultaneously grabbing his wand and in a few steps slammed open the bedroom door.

Draco was making whimpering noises. He screamed again, and tossed violently back and forth, the sheets tangled around him. As soon as Charlie realized that Draco was having a night terror and not in any real danger, he relaxed instantly.

_"Lumos!" _Charlie leaned over the bed, and saw that Draco was covered in sweat. He gnashed his teeth and groaned. Charlie felt a rush of concern. He reached out to untangle the sheets from around Draco, but Draco grabbed his wrist.

"Please! PLEASE!" Draco whimpered again, and tightened his clammy grip on Charlie.

"Hey, hey, it's okay, it's okay." Charlie made soothing sounds as he finally got the sheets untangled with his free hand. They were soaked from Draco's sweat. Charlie frowned, unsure if he should wake up Draco or not. He extricated his hand and leaned down to pick him up—he decided to move him to the living room. However, Draco grabbed at Charlie, again. This time he managed a handful of his shirt.

"Please, no! I promise I promiseIpromiseIpromise NONOnononooo!" Draco struggled in his sleep, his free hand clenched in a fist at his side. The tendons in his neck and arms stood out, made all the more prominent by the play of shadow from the dim light of Charlie's wand.

"Okay, okay! Shhh, you're okay!" Charlie tried soothing Draco again; this time his voice woke him. Draco's eyes darted around the room. He looked absolutely terrified and was hyperventilating. After a few seconds he calmed down enough to sit up and take in the worried expression on Charlie's face.

"I normally cast _muffilato _before sleeping. My apologies." Draco said a bit stiffly as he grabbed the comforter and drew it up around him.

"You have these nightmares often?"

Draco didn't say anything, just nodded once.

"Well, why don't you change out of something less damp, and I'll go get you a drink." Charlie's tone conveyed that it wasn't a question. He placed a calloused hand on Draco's shoulder.

"Okay." Draco whispered and climbed out of the bed and rummaged around his trunk. Charlie ducked into the kitchen and warmed up a mug of milk. He added a touch of vanilla and sugar and sprinkled some nutmeg on top. This was a drink Ginny invented, and would often drink before bed instead of tea. Charlie walked back in and saw Draco sitting forlornly on the edge of the bed, his head in his hands. He was clad in green boxers. Charlie thought to himself that the darker green complimented Draco's skin tone. Charlie handed him the milk and grabbed some thick wool socks from a drawer and his dragon skin boots from under the bed. He sat next to Draco, who gave him a strange look. He drank most of the milk before asking, "Where're you going?"

"For a walk. Put your shoes on, too." Draco pursed his lips, but he set down the mug and grabbed a pair of pants from his chest. He slipped his feet into a pair of loafers, and then realizing that Charlie's definition of "walk" might actually be more like a "hike."

"Charlie, do I need to put on my boots, or are these okay?"

"You're good. We'll be on a trail mostly. Let's go." Draco followed Charlie through the house and onto the front porch. The cool air felt good on Draco's skin. Charlie motioned to the right. "Up that trail is where the rest of the Dragonists stay. They've got a big lodge. Over there is the nursery. We've only had to use it twice, both times from abandoned eggs we found in the wild. That almost never happens."

Draco grinned at the satisfied tone in Charlie's voice as he continued to describe his domain. However, as the darkness grew, Draco's unease from the night terror began to surface. He performed the _lumos _charm. Charlie understood that he was uncomfortable so he grabbed Draco's hand. Their fingers intertwined, and Draco pulled closer to Charlie. He continued his nonsensical narration, talking about the number and types of dragons on the reserve, and the different dragon trainers. Charlie's voice distracted Draco from the dark forest surrounding him.

They headed left, down the trail. The trees and the darkness started growing deeper around them, and Draco felt a little more uncomfortable. When he heard some rustling and branches cracking in the distance he felt his old familiar companion of fear churning inside his stomach. Draco tightened his grip on Charlie. He had a longstanding fear of werewolves. It started when he had to go into the Forbidden Forest for detention his first year, but by the time he was a 5th year he had been forced to spend his summers in the presence of a real werewolf. When Voldemort took over the Malfoy Mansion as his headquarters Fenrir Greyback had been a constant torment to Draco. Fenrir Greyback was Voldemort's third in command, and spent a great deal of time on the Malfoy property. He was known for intentionally infecting children with lycanthropy. Because Lucius outranked Fenrir, and the Malfoy wealth was crucial to the Dark Lord's plans, Fenrir was forbidden from infecting Draco. That didn't stop the werewolf from tormenting Draco, though. He smelled Draco's fear in a way that only a large predator can, and took great pleasure in cultivating that fear into full blown terror. He would lurk in the darkened halls of the great mansion and corner Draco. When Fenrir had Draco trapped against the wall or alone in a room he would undergo a partial transformation—an animagus skill that only the strongest of wizards could safely control. He would drag his claws against Draco's neck, threatening to break the skin and transmit his disease. Even though Draco knew in this form he was an animagus and not a true werewolf, it didn't lessen his fears any. He'd seen him dart through the forests surrounding the mansions when he was overcome by the moon and it was an awe-inspiring, terrifying event.

The first time he'd whispered in Draco's ear, with breath so foul from the raw and bloody meat he had consumed, was just the beginning of long months of fear for the slight, blond youth. "As soon as you fail in the tasking that the Dark Lord has given you, I will have permission to punish you. I'm not going to use crutiatus, or magic, oh no, my beautiful little boy. I'm going to hold your neck, like this"—Fenrir spread his claws around Draco's neck, the claws pressing little almost-pinpricks against his jugular—"and you, beautiful little boy, aren't going to move. Because if you resist me, you'll make my claws puncture your skin. And you know that will give you lycanthropy. And while you're being as still as you possibly can, so that I don't accidentally pierce your alabaster skin and let that sweet red blood flow, I'm going to pull down your pants." Fenrir used the claws on his other hands to slice Draco's leather belt in two. Draco started shaking uncontrollably. He ran one claw along the seam causing the fabric to neatly split. "And then, well, you can imagine exactly what I'm going to do, can't you?" Fenrir gave a sadistic laugh before shoving Draco roughly away from him. He gave a small growl and took off running. It was only a few seconds later that Narcissa had entered the room. It was all he could do to get away from his mother before she realized something was wrong. The fear, and shame, had sent Draco spiraling to a new low that summer. He was desperate to return to Hogwarts, his only safe haven. No matter where he went in the mansion that year, Fenrir always managed to find him. He'd even woken to find Fenrir sitting on the edge of his bed a few times. Draco shook his head to clear away the bad memories.

They wove around a small cluster of trees and Draco let out a small gasp as he realized they were now in the middle of the forest. He tightened his grip on Charlie's hand. Charlie realized that Draco was growing nervous, so he announced, "We're going through those tress, and up the hill. There's a clearing—that's where we're headed."

The path narrowed, and Draco found himself trailing behind Charlie. Charlie stepped between two trees and held aside a branch for Draco. He stepped out of the forest and looked at the hill that loomed up in the dark. Charlie smiled encouragingly, "This is where I come when I can't sleep. You'll see why in a second."

Draco let go of Charlie's hand just long enough to wipe his sweaty palms on his pants. He grabbed Charlie's hand again and followed him up the hill. His footing was a little unsure on the dew-kissed grass, but they made it to the top quickly. "Here! Look!" Charlie grabbed Draco's shoulders and spun him to the right. "See? Down there!" Draco peered into the darkness, and let out a small gasp when he saw a bright orange-red light appear far in the distance, and then vanish just as suddenly.

"They're snoring!" Charlie's excitement was infectious.

"Those are dragons?" Draco sounded incredulous.

"Yeah! When they snore the tips of their snouts glow. See?" Charlie pointed eagerly.

As he stared into the darkness, looking for the little bursts of light, all of Draco's fears and feelings of worry from the nightmare disappeared—he was focused on something so foreign he was completely distracted. He felt joy bubble up inside him. Draco started laughing. He tried counting them, but they appeared and disappeared so rapidly he kept losing count. "How many did you say there were?"

"Seventeen adults, eleven of them are males. The females are a lot more territorial, especially if they are rutting. Sometimes, the females actually snort a burst of flame, but that's not common. Their internal core temperature is higher than the males, that's why." Charlie sat down on a boulder and pulled Draco toward him. He tucked his fingers in Draco's pockets. Charlie smoothed his fingers over Draco's hips; the slight pressure caused him to wiggle his ass against Charlie's lap. Draco leaned back so that he was resting against Charlie's chest. He stared out at the lights and felt a moment's peace. Charlie nuzzled Draco's shoulder blade, and breathed in his scent.

"Hey, Charlie?" Draco whispered.

"Hmm?" Charlie placed several kisses against Draco's back, in a line down his shoulder-blade.

Draco was silent for so long that Charlie asked, "Yes?"

"Nothing. Nevermind." Draco pulled on Charlie's arms. When Charlie pulled his hands out of Draco's pockets, Draco wrapped them around his chest and laid his arms overtop of Charlie's.

Charlie grinned in the dark. "It's okay, go ahead."

"It's not important." Draco turned around and placed his arms around Charlie's neck. Draco toyed with Charlie's hair. Perched on the boulder with Draco standing in front of him, Charlie was at the perfect level to plant kisses along Draco's collar bone. Charlie kissed and licked along the prominent ridge, while running his hands up and down Draco's back. After a minute, he slid his hands down to cup Draco's ass.

He pulled Draco especially close and said, "I think I just figured out why you're being so quiet."

"Let me hear your theory." Draco rolled his eyes. He highly doubted that Charlie could guess why he was being so quiet.

"You're nervous." Charlie felt Draco stiffen for a splint second. That was all the indication he needed to confirm he was on the right track. "For some reason..."

Charlie's let his voice trail off as he stopped himself mid-sentence. He was originally going to say "for some reason you're too scared to ask me," but given the fact that Draco just woke up screaming from a night terror, that seemed inappropriate.

He finally finished lamely, "For some reason you won't ask me."

Draco slid his hands out of Charlie's hair and along his jaw. Charlie looked up at Draco, seriously. Draco felt extremely nervous, but he leaned in anyway. As his lips touched Charlie's, he closed his eyes. A small tremor spread through his body. Charlie's hands were still on Draco's ass, and as he explored Draco's mouth, he lifted Draco up into his lap. Draco tried to find purchase with his knees on the boulder, but Charlie held him firmly so he was in no danger of slipping. Charlie matched Draco in the kiss. At first Draco kiss him tentatively, so Charlie controlled himself. He gave Draco's lower lip a small, teasing bite, but for the most part didn't push for the kiss to grow into anything more. After a few seconds, when Draco realized that Charlie wasn't rejecting him, he started kissing Charlie with confidence. Charlie eagerly matched Draco's enthusiasm. Draco's tongue darted into Charlie's mouth. Charlie did the same, and sent his tongue pressing against the inside of Draco's lips. Draco's hands were tangled in Charlie's hair again, and he felt Charlie's dick pressing against his ass. Draco ground against Charlie's erection, and he felt a smile spread across Charlie's face.

"It's hard to kiss you when you're smiling." Draco wiggled his hips again.

Charlie laughed "I just enjoy you so much, that's why I'm smiling. You make me happy." He leaned in and kissed Draco's nose.

"Really? I do?" Draco didn't try to hide the incredulous tone.

"Yes. You do."

"That was my question. Kind of." Draco started playing with Charlie's hair again.

"What was your question, exactly, if that was only kind of?" Charlie placed his hand on Draco's chest and spread his fingers. His thumb brushed up against Draco's nipple. Even though it was dark, Charlie could make out that it was slightly pinkish brown and contrasted brightly with Draco's pale, milky skin. Subconsciously Charlie began playing with it, rubbing and grazing with his fingernail, and rolling it between his fingers. Draco mumbled something incoherent, that Charlie thought sounded like "why me?"

"What?" Charlie stilled his hand.

"I was just wondering, what I mean is, I'm almost painful shy about my body, and you aren't at all about yours, obviously. And you have no problems touching me. And it makes me nervous because I don't see how you could want-I mean, this, I don't understand. Why me." Draco finished his sentence in a blur and looked down at his hands. He picked at his thumbnail and avoided eye contact.

Charlie sat there, silently, just holding Draco. He was a little shocked by the question and not sure how to answer. He sensed there was a lot more to Draco's question than just why was he attracted to Draco.

Charlie took a deep breath and finally replied. "Well, there's a lot of different things you just brought up, so I'm going to try to answer them all, okay? Let's head back to the house, it's starting to get cool." He waited for Draco to climb down and taking his hand, he led the way.

"The first and obvious question is about your body. Draco, you are handsome in an austere, beautiful way. Your eyes are gray and hide so much mystery. Your skin is soft, and I want to touch it. I am very attracted to you, and aroused by you. But, it's more than just being physically attracted to you." He pulled Draco close and kissed the top of his head. They continued through the forest.

"You are so intelligent. You're so much smarter than I am, and you have a very sharp wit. You are studying to be a healer, come on. You're brilliant." Draco gave him a disparaging look, but because it was dark and Charlie was intent on following the path back to the lodge, he didn't notice.

"Also, I enjoy you. I enjoy being around you. You make me nervous."

At Charlie's confession, Draco laughed. "I make _you _nervous?"

"Well, yeah." Charlie sounded a little defensive.

"That's rich! I'm terrified of kissing you because I have no experience, and I make you nervous?" Draco laughed.

They had threaded their way through some trees and ended up back on the path that wound its way from Charlie's front porch. Charlie turned and pulled Draco close to him. He angled his thigh so it was between Draco's legs, and had his left hand wound in through Draco's hair, holding Draco's head still as he leaned down to kiss him. Charlie used all of his considerable experience to kiss Draco. He poured his desire for Draco into that kiss. His other hand found its way down the back of Draco's soft pajama pants. He cupped Draco's cheek with his palm and cautiously explored the cleft with his fingers. He ran his finger in gentle circles around the rosebud. Draco clenched at first, but it was just a reaction to never having been touched there. As he fell into Charlie's kiss, he relaxed and even pushed against Charlie's exploring fingers. Between the sensation there, and Charlie's thigh pressing against his hard dick, Draco was overwhelmed with pleasure. He felt his knees grow week, and his heart race. Charlie desperately wanted to press his fingers into Draco's most secret place, but he surfaced for air, instead. He pulled away from the kiss, and slid his hands to Draco's hips. "It has nothing to do with experience, Draco. It has everything to do with you. I want _you. _And you make me nervous because I've never felt this way about anyone else before."

Draco looked up at Charlie and said, "You want me." Draco sounded giddy. Charlie grinned.

"Yes. I want you. Come on, we're almost home." Charlie intertwined his fingers with Draco's and they headed up the short path to the lodge.

They climbed up the steps and Draco headed straight for the bedroom. Charlie followed, but stopped at the door. Draco slipped out of his pants and climbed into the bed wearing his boxers. He realized that Charlie hadn't moved from the doorway. "Don't go."

Charlie stepped into the room and sat down on the edge of the bed. Draco scooted over and said, "You could sleep here, if you wanted. I mean, if it's okay. It's your bed, I mean."

Charlie slipped out of his wife beater and pulled off his boots. He flicked his wand at the lights and set his wand next to Draco's on the nightstand. He stretched out on his back next to Draco. "I'd like that."

Draco scooted over so that he was next to Charlie, resting his head on his biceps. He laid on his stomach, with one knee curled over Charlie's leg, and his hand spread across Charlie's chest. Charlie curled his arm around Draco, protectively. Draco ran his fingers through the light red curls on Charlie's chest. He smiled at how they felt against his fingertips. He ran his fingers down Charlie's stomach, and felt the washboard abs with a little bit of awe and envy. He reached his bellybutton, and felt the soft red fuzz again. He ran his fingers down until he hit the waistband of Charlie's pajamas. Charlie placed his free hand over Draco's.

"Slowly."

Draco grinned and kept toying with Charlie's pants. He untied the draw strings and slipped his fingers behind the elastic of Charlie's boxers. He could hear the change in Charlie's breathing. Gathering his courage, Draco tugged gently on Charlie's pants and said, softly, "Could you take them off? Please?"

His breathing uneven, Charlie didn't trust himself to reply, so he just used his free hand to pull them off. They got tangled around his knees, so Draco reached down to help. Draco grinned in the darkness when he realized that Charlie had left his boxers on. _Oh well, _Draco thought, _I have mine on, too. _

Draco continued to play with the hair on Charlie's lower abdomen. "You don't mind?"

Charlie used his free hand to pull Draco's face up for a kiss. "I thought we already covered this. I love it when you touch me. Don't be nervous about touching me. It makes me happy."

With that endorsement, Draco slipped his hand into the fly of Charlie's boxers. Charlie gave a small gasp of pleasure and surprise as Draco gripped his shaft. "Merlin. I thought we were going slow."

Draco replied with just a hint of sarcasm, "I thought you like it when I touch you."

"Well, yeah, but, I-" Charlie interrupted himself with a moan as Draco squeezed gently.

All sarcasm was gone, instead there was satisfaction as Draco observed, "Well, your cock likes it when I touch you, anyway."

"Okay, yeah, forget slow." Charlie spread his legs, a little, to give Draco better access. He was afraid that if he moved he'd scare Draco off, so he gripped the edge of the mattress. Draco was just exploring, though, and soon had Charlie's balls in the palm of his hand. He felt the little ridge where the skin formed a line between them, and he ran his fingernail gently over it. He squeezed gently and ran his thumb over Charlie's balls, then released them in favor of exploring Charlie's dick. As he spread his fingers around the base of the shaft, and applied a firm pressure, Charlie felt his eyelids flutter. His eyes roll back and he tried to control his breathing. Draco slid his hand up and was surprised to notice that Charlie wasn't circumcised. Draco shifted so that he could rest his head on Charlie's stomach. Charlie's hand slid off Draco's back, and he clutched the sheets tightly. Draco looked along his stomach at Charlie's dick, and was also surprised at how thick he was-he was average length, but very thick. He also noticed that Charlie didn't have much hair—he wasn't sure if that was because he kept it trimmed, or simply because he wasn't very hairy down there. Draco smiled because compared to him, Charlie was very fuzzy all over. He even had a dusting of hair on his back. Draco continued to grip Charlie, but he ran his thumb gently over the foreskin. He wasn't sure, exactly, what to do with that because he didn't have one. Draco gripped Charlie's shaft and pulled down, and when the head was exposed he smiled in satisfaction. He gently touched the tip of Charlie's dick. Charlie couldn't contain himself and let out a little moan of pleasure. He swallowed and breathed in short, deep gasps as Draco began moving his hand up and down Charlie's dick. Charlie let go of the mattress and fumbled at the light stand. He finally managed to open the drawer and retrieve his lube. He flicked the lid and grabbed Draco's hand.

"I've only ever used lotion…" Draco's voice trailed off uncertainly as Charlie squeezed a small amount into his hand. Charlie took the second to slip out of his boxers.

Draco looked at the small amount on his hand and shrugged. He clumsily wiped it all over Charlie's dick, and was little taken aback that it wasn't sticky—it looked like it should be sticky! He gripped Charlie at the base of cock and grinned at how quickly his hand slipped along him. Charlie couldn't control the moans and little noises of pleasure that Draco was bringing out of him. After a few minutes, he let go of the mattress and grabbed Draco's hand to guide him. When Draco realized how close Charlie was to orgasm, he sat up instead of resting his face on Charlie's stomach. Charlie climaxed with a moan, and sprayed all over his abs. He sighed contentedly. Charlie lay there, totally languid. Draco sat the rest of the way up, and tucked his knees under him. He smiled, satisfied. After a few seconds, Charlie grabbed his discarded boxers and used them to wipe himself. He grabbed Draco and flipped him onto his back. He leaned down to kiss him, his hair curtaining on either side of their faces.

"Can I?" Charlie had his thumb in Draco's waistband, and was pulling gently.

Draco nodded, too nervous to trust himself to speak. It was different when he was exploring Charlie's body, but now he felt shy and exposed. Charlie slipped his boxers off, easily, and smiled when he saw that Draco was hard. A small glint of moisture glistened at the tip of Draco's cock. Charlie kissed a line down Draco's sternum, and he took a second to play with Draco's nipples. His hair brushed Draco's stomach and made him squirm a little. Charlie ran his thumbs over Draco's hips. He planted a kiss below Draco's bellybutton. He slid further down on the bed, so that he was between Draco's legs. He grabbed behind his knees and pushed his legs up, and apart. Charlie wanted to lick, and suck, and kiss, but he decided to wait. He ran his hands along Draco's hamstrings and cupped his ass. He smiled at Draco's wide eyes and said "You have the most adorable ass in the world, you know. I can't keep my hands off it. And, I like how my hands can hold it perfectly."

Charlie grabbed the lube and quickly slicked his hands. He watched Draco's face as he slid his hands over his dick. He used one hand to slide along his shaft, and the other to fondle his balls. Still cupping Draco's balls, Charlie slid his finger down to apply slight pressure below his balls, right above his anus. He knew how sensitive that particular strip of skin was. He continued to move his hand over his hardened cock. On the downstroke Charlie gave his hand a slight twist. After the third or fourth time, Draco had scrabbled to get purchase with his feet so that he could thrust and shift his hips in tandem with Charlie's hands. He made a desperate moaning noise. Charlie bit his lip to keep from smiling at the reaction he was causing. Draco's hands fluttered on the bed sheets. Charlie slid his finger further down, and rubbed a small circle around Draco's tender anus. He really wanted to slide his finger in, but decided to wait yet again, until he was positive that Draco would be receptive to it. He could tell that Draco was seconds away from coming, anyway. He increased the speed of his strokes and easily brought Draco to climax. His whole body shook with release. Draco tried to sit up, but felt the room spin. He lay back on the pillows and clutched Charlie's wrist. Charlie grabbed the boxers, again, and used them to wipe Draco. Then, he pulled Draco close, so they were spooning, and wrapped them both in the blanket. He brushed Draco's hair off his forehead and whispered, "Was that okay?"

Draco twisted around so that he was facing Charlie. He tucked his arm around Charlie and announced, "That was amazing." Draco planted a kiss, boldly, on Charlie's lips. "You know what, Charlie?"

"Nope, what?" Charlie ran his thumb along Draco's lips. He grinned at Draco; he sounded giddy and almost drunk.

"I love you."

A smile broke out on Charlie's face. "I love you too, Draco."

"Night, Charlie."

"Goodnight, Draco."

Charlie watched Draco close his eyes and fall asleep almost instantly. This time, Draco's breathing was deep and steady. He was at peace. Charlie, however, had a whole host of emotions and worries that were dashing through his thoughts. He wasn't sure if he'd be able to go back to sleep. He kissed Draco's forehead again and felt himself relax a little bit. Maybe he'd fall asleep in a little bit, after all.


	11. Confession

Sorry for the delay; I was without internet for a week. I know, *gasp!* Fortunately, all is well with the world and I am reconnected. Also, I have a few chapters to upload. I'm only uploading one at a time until I get a review-dastardly of me, I know! But I want to make sure I'm on the right track with this story.

Okay, I lied, I'll upload the next one tomorrow, when I've had time to do a final proofread. =D

Enjoy!

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The sound of running water woke Draco, but he kept his eyes shut. He was afraid that if he woke up he'd find that last night had just been a dream. If it was a dream, it was the first really good dream he'd had in years; he wanted to hold onto that memory for as long as possible. He opened his eyes slowly, cautiously. Light poured in the windows and Draco realized that the water had stopped. He heard Charlie singing but he couldn't quite make out the words. Draco peered around the room and was satisfied that last night wasn't a dream. Charlie quietly stepped out of the bathroom wearing only a towel.

"Hey, handsome!" Charlie leaned over Draco to give him a kiss. "I'm glad you're awake."

Draco tried to scowl at Charlie, but couldn't. "Morning. Your hair is dripping on me."

Charlie laughed and rubbed his damp hair in Draco's face. "Awww, somebody isn't a morning person!" After much grumbling on Draco's part, Charlie finally left him alone, rumpled and awake, while he started getting dressed. Charlie rummaged through the drawers and found some acceptable jeans. After slipping into them, he bent over and towel dried his hair with a few minutes of ferocious rubbing. Charlie grabbed a brush and leaned up against the dresser while he started braiding his hair. The muscles in his arm rippled lazily while he wove his hair in a plait tight against his head.

Draco watched him, quietly. He asked, "Can I touch it?" and was momentarily surprised with himself because the words popped out of his mouth of their own volition.

"Wrout?" Charlie couldn't manage much more coherency because he was using his teeth to hold the brush while his hands slid through his hair.

"Your scar." Draco sat up and pulled the blankets up around himself almost defensively.

He pulled the brush out of his mouth. "Oh. Sure." Charlie walked to the bed and turned. He finished the braid and lifted his arm over his head. Draco leaned forward and put his hand on the pinkish, slick skin. The scar was only about four inches wide, but it snaked across his ribs and ended right under his shoulder blade.

Charlie didn't say anything, just watched Draco with a curious expression on his face. His pale hand contrasted against Charlie's sunkissed skin. Draco placed his fingers at the base and gently ran them up the scar. "Can you feel anything at all?"

"No, not on the scar itself. It was really a bad burn. You could see my ribs, even." Charlie peered under his arm at the scar, and shrugged. "It was a long time ago."

"I just don't understand how it scarred. They should've been able to prevent that." Draco was mumbling, thinking out loud: this was like one of Madame Pomfrey's medical quizzes. Charlie's forehead furrowed and his eyebrows bunched in reaction to Draco's words. He was suddenly self-conscious with Draco's clinical observations.

Draco continued thinking out-loud, oblivious to Charlie's reaction. "I like the way your scar feels, it's smooth. I should've had a scar from an injury that bad, too."

"Oh, really?" Charlie was genuinely curious, now. He sat down on the bed next to Draco. "What happened?" Draco ducked his head and screwed his eyes tightly shut. He started breathing deeply. Charlie immediately recognized what he was starting to call Draco's "shut down mode" behavior. After a few seconds, Charlie bit back a sigh of exasperation and stood up.

"Tell you what, kid. I'm gonna go start breakfast. You go ahead and shower. If you want to tell me what happened, then, over breakfast, I'll let you bring it up, okay?" He leaned in to kiss the top of Draco's head.

Draco felt the panic that started with Charlie's questions grow. He grabbed at Charlie and caught a belt-loop. "I'm sorry. I just—I can't, I'm sorry, please don't be angry."

"Hey. Hey. Look at me." Charlie's voice was soft, but definitely carried a tone of authority that Draco somehow managed to cause regularly. He put both his hands on Draco's shoulders. "Look at my eyes."

Draco slowly lifted his eyes to Charlie's. Charlie felt a smile playing at the corner of his lips. "I'm not upset, okay? I didn't realize I was poking at something that you might not have wanted to talk about. So, go shower, and I'm gonna start breakfast. I'm hungry. Okay?"

Draco nodded.

"Okay then." Charlie kissed Draco on the forehead and left the room. Draco pulled his knees up and buried his face in the blanket. The last thing he wanted to do was tell Charlie all about his mistakes. Telling him about how he plotted to kill Dumbledore, or his fight with Harry Potter in Moaning Myrtle's bathroom when Harry confronted him about it—Charlie would judge him. Think he was scum. What kind of person plots murder? Maybe he really was evil, and really did deserve the Dementor's Kiss. The very thought of losing Charlie when he found out about his past was almost too much for Draco. Draco felt tears leaking out the corners of his eyes and he couldn't quite stop his hands from shaking. He hated these anxiety attacks and how helpless and vulnerable he felt during them. They were almost worse than the nightmares. He took a deep breath and started the beginning process of emptying his mind. He almost couldn't, at first, because thinking of Aunt Bellatrix only made him remember the Great War. Images swirled around in his head: the Dark Lord branding the mark on his arm as he shook in pain, Bellatrix making him practice the Avra Kadavara and Crutiatus curses on muggles in the back yard, that godawful snake, Nagini, sliding around him and Fenrir Greyback sneering from the shadows while the Dark Lord gave him his final tasking. With great difficulty, Draco focused on the instructions his Aunt had beat into him. He refused to allow her shrill voice to conjure up more memories. "Empty your mind, Draco. Empty, empty, empty, empty!" After a few seconds of deep breathing, Draco felt stable enough to go take a shower.

He rested his forehead on the tile and adjusted the spray so it hit him in the back of the head. It ran in rivulets down his face and back. He stood under the water until it ran cold. Even after he was covered in goosebumps and shivering, Draco couldn't make himself move. He was fighting an internal battle—he knew he had tell Charlie the truth, and he had to tell him soon. First, Charlie was liable to find out from someone other than Draco. It wasn't as if the story hadn't been smeared across every newspaper. Secondly, if Charlie was going to reject him for his actions during the Great War then he preferred it happen now, soon, instead of later when he was even more attached to Charlie. His diagnosis was that while it would be merely painful now, it would be debilitating later.

He finally reached up to shut off the water. He groped for a towel and shivering, managed to get dry enough to stagger into the bedroom. He slipped into his only pair of jeans. On an impulse he opened up the wardrobe and grabbed one of Charlie's shirts. It was huge on him, but Draco didn't care. It smelled of laundry detergent and faintly of Charlie, woodsy and warmth and fresh-cut grass.

The smells coming from the kitchen were mouth-watering, but Draco's stomach was in knots. He wasn't sure if he'd be able to eat. Draco took a deep breath and steeled himself. He opened the door and headed into the kitchen. Charlie was humming to himself and arranging what looked like toast on a plate. Draco sat down at the table and watched Charlie. Charlie grabbed the pan off the stove top and scooped heaping piles of diced potatoes, bell peppers, and sausage onto the plates. He sprinkled some cheese on top and brought them to the table.

"Did you want milk, coffee, or orange juice?" Charlie reached for his mug and took a sip of coffee.

Draco looked at his plate and gave a faint smile. Charlie had cut a hole in the center of a piece of bread and fried an egg in it. "I haven't had a Chicken-in-a-Basket for years!" He added, "Oh, uh, coffee's fine."

"I drink it black, so I don't have proper creamer. I have milk and sugar, though." Charlie brought a mug of coffee and the carton of milk to the table. Draco immediately poured in enough milk in to bring his coffee to the brim. He leaned down to take a sip before trying to lift the mug.

"No sugar. Just lots and lots of milk." Draco took another sip and several deep breaths while he waited for Charlie to sit down. He felt dizzy and nauseated.

Charlie sat down at the table and grabbed his fork. Charlie smiled at the fact that Draco was wearing his Weird Sisters 08 Tour t-shirt. The sleeves came down past Draco's elbows. He debated commenting on the shirt, or even casting a _reductio_ charm to make it fit Draco better. Remembering Draco's earlier behavior, Charlie ventured into what he was sure safe conversational territory, with a careful, "I was thinking we could go see the dragons this morning."

Draco didn't respond, so Charlie picked up his Chicken-in-a-Basket and ripped the toast in half. The yolk popped and started dripping down the toast. He used the two halves of bread to smear around the yolk and took a bite.

"I'd like to see your dragons, Charlie. I need to tell you something, though. I don't think you'll want me around once you hear it." Draco's voice wavered, and cracked at the end. Draco clasped his hands tightly in his lap to keep them from shaking.

Charlie's eyebrows shot so high up they threatened to disappear into his hair. He wasn't sure how to respond so he took another bite.

"You ask lots of questions, Charlie. And I don't mean to shut down, but I…" Draco's voice trailed off. "If you find out the truth..." Draco took a deep breath and finished quickly, "I'm scared of how you'll react."

Charlie had a mouthful of his fry-up, and hurried to swallow so he could reply. Draco, however, kept talking and didn't give him a chance. "The first question you asked that I didn't want to answer was about my father. He didn't mean to ever hurt me, I don't think, even though I was never good enough for him. He'd just get angry, you know? And I guess I made a convenient punching bag." Draco picked up his fork and set it back down. As he gained ground with his narrative his voice shook less. Charlie detected a hint of anger. "It wasn't even just that he sometimes hit Mum and me, or Dobby, but you know, I didn't _want _to be a Death Eater. I didn't have a choice. He just gave me up to the Dark Lord, and, once I was in, there's no getting out. You know, the Dark Lord enjoyed giving tasks that couldn't be accomplished. If we couldn't accomplish them, we'd be cruiatised if we were lucky. Killed, if we weren't. Father hoped that he'd garner favor by giving the Dark Lord his only son. Instead, all he did was ruin my life."

Charlie reached across the table and laid it on Draco's hand.

"He gave me my first tasking when I turned 15." Draco's voice turned hard. "I was to find a way for the Death Eaters to get into Hogwarts. I was to remove the biggest threat to the Dark Lord."

"I know." Draco glanced up in surprise, so Charlie clarified, "I was at your trial."

"You were?" Draco fought against the memories that Charlie's simple statement had unearthed. The memories of the Wizengamot were among the most embarrassing that Draco had. The feel of the cold steel chair and the locks that chafed his wrists and legs. The jeering, screaming hatred from the crowd. His had been a very public trial, and it was the single most humiliating moment in his life. He had been kept in Azkaban for several months prior to his hearing date, and then dragged, terrified and filthy before a hostile court. He remembered the fear and disorientation. He had been so scared he was barely able to comprehend the charges against him, just that he was going to die. He didn't even remember Potter and Granger's redeeming testimonies—he'd been told later during his out-processing by a little court-clerk witch that they had saved him.

"The entire family went to all the hearings, for Fred."

Draco swallowed, because the memories of that courtroom almost sent him into a panic. He couldn't remember a lot of that day, but what he could was terrible. He remembered the list of crimes being read, and the public screaming for his death. He couldn't remember anything after that until the end of the trial. He remembered urinating on himself when the Dementors pulled him from the chair because he was certain they were going to give him The Kiss. All they did was drag him off to the cells, though, and a few hours later, when his mother's trial was concluded, Narcissa and he had been released.

"Then you know I tried to murder Dumbledore." Tears came unbidden. Draco tried to swallow past the knot in his throat.

"Yes, I know." Charlie's voice was soft, gentle.

"Potter tried to confront me about it. I tried to murder him, too. We were in Moaning Myrtle's loo. He came in and saw me having a break down. A lot like now, actually." Draco tried for levity, but failed miserably, as he swiped angrily at his eyes. Charlie forced himself to listen to Draco without interrupting.

"I sent the Avra Kadavra curse at him. He doesn't know that be barely dodged it, though. I panicked. I didn't know what else to do, if he told anyone about my plans…" Draco's voice drifted off for a second, consumed in the memories.

He shook his head and continued, "He used a curse I'd never seen, _Sectumsempra_. It carved me open from my belly to my chest." Draco traced the cut line and dropped his hand to pick in distrait at the seam of his jeans. "I almost died. It would've been better for me, if Potter had killed me." Draco forced himself to continue his story. "I wanted to die. But, Uncle Sev healed me. Madam Pomfrey gave me Essence of Dittany, that's why I don't have a scar. Actually, I've woken up every morning since then wishing that Potter really had killed me. Until this morning."

Charlie desperately wanted to comfort Draco, but he just didn't know how. He wanted take the pain and panic from him. He could see how much it was costing Draco to confide in him. He had brushed aside MacGonagal's warning of "there's damage on his soul" as a poetic exaggeration on her part. She obviously had understated the situation.

Draco finally looked at Charlie. His eyes were red and his face was even more pale that usual. He barely managed to force the words out, "So, now you know what I'm really like. And I understand if you want me to leave."

"Oh, Draco!" Charlie moved without thinking—his chair clattered as he stood. He leaned down to wrap Draco in his arms. It was an awkward hug because of his height and the fact that Draco was slouched in the chair. He slid down so that he was kneeling and his arms were around Draco's waist. He looked up at Draco's tearstained face. Charlie traced his sharp cheekbones with his thumb. Draco had screwed his eyes shut and tried to brace himself for the rejection he was sure was coming. He twisted the shirt between his hands. "No. No, Draco, I do not want you to leave. What you've done, or think you've done, or planned to do, does not change the fact that I love you."

Draco's eyes popped open in surprise. He let his breath out shakily. Charlie looked at him with a serious expression. "Are you gonna be alright?"

He shook his head. "I feel like I'm going to throw up. I didn't think…It's just tension." He gave Charlie a wane smile.

"Okay. Well...aim for the sink if you're gonna hurl." Charlie grinned at Draco and then stood up and began clearing his breakfast dishes. He sensed that Draco needed a few minutes to compose himself so he leaned against the counter and quietly finished his coffee.


	12. Playing with Fire

As promised! Thank you for the kind words and wonderful reviews! It is always nice to know that I'm right on track and my story is being enjoyed!

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Draco picked up his chicken-in-a-basket and took a hearty bite. Charlie took that as a sign that he was calm again, so he grabbed the pot of coffee and took a seat at the table.

"We can really meet the dragons today?" Draco asked around a mouthful of food.

"Yeah. We've got mainly the Welsh Greens, but we have one Hebridean Black and a young Chinese Fireball. She's really cute. They're called the 'Lion Dragons' because of their coloring and, they also have this little spiked webbing that puffs up around their neck when they get excited. She's really small, too. Only a little bigger than me." Draco grinned at Charlie's enthusiasm. He finished the last of his breakfast and took his dishes to the sink.

"Oh, hey, Draco?" He turned away from the sink when Charlie called his name. Charlie brandished his wand and muttered, "_Reduccio!" _Draco let out a little yelp of surprise as the shirt shrank around him.

"Hey! I liked it like that." Draco looked down and evaluated the new fit.

"You looked like a ragamuffin!" Charlie snorted in reply.

"Since when did you care about fashion?"

"You're right. I don't. Leave the dishes, we'll get them after. You ready?"

Draco nodded excitedly.

"Okay, um, let's go by broom. It's faster, just stay close to me, okay? There's a certain path we have to take so that they don't think we're encroaching on their territory. Oh, and I gotta get you some leathers." Charlie called over his shoulder as he disappeared into the bedroom. He emerged a few moments later wearing a Dragonskin vest, gloves, and chaps. He held another set for Draco.

"I'm gonna reduccio these, too, just so you're forewarned." Charlie handed them to Draco.

Draco stepped into the chaps and started laughing when the legs gathered around his ankles. "Okay, that's probably a good idea."

After a few minutes of sizing and buttoning, Charlie was satisfied that Draco was as protected as possible. As they walked outside, Charlie gave some last-minute instructions to Draco. "Okay, look, these guys have no understanding of 'fragile.' One misstep will break your leg or crush your foot. Also, there's virtually no spells you can hit them with to calm them or stop them. For a full-grown Welsh, it takes about 8 of us trainers in tandem to effectively cast a stunning spell. So approach them carefully, and if you feel unsafe, back away. We can do a fly by for the less tame dragons, if you want, but we aren't going to go petting them. Got it?"

"Does that mean there's one that I can pet?" Draco gave Charlie teasing grin before flinging his leg over the broom.

"Actually, yeah, I was going to introduce you to Ming, and maybe Dameon. He's our oldest Welsh." Charlie lifted a few feet into the air.

Draco drifted back to the ground in shock. "Really?"

Charlie started laughing and looked down at Draco. "Yeah, really. C'mon." They tore through the air. Charlie slowed so that he was flying next to Draco.

"Okay, see that mountainside? There are three Welsh Greens that live in the caves. They are pretty subdued, and a very shy breed. I get kind of bored with them because they do not like interacting with people. Nothing like the Horntails I'm used to from Romania! We can get closer, but I don't know if they'll come out of their caves."

Draco strained to see where the caves were, but couldn't make out any possible dragon-nests. "Can we? I can't even see where they'd hide!"

Charlie smiled and headed toward the mountain. "Be careful, don't approach the caves directly! They sound a very pretty roar right before blasting a fire-jet!" Draco followed Charlie and as they made their way past a few small caves.

"There's nothing big enough for a dragon to fit in!"

"Yeah there is! Right there!" Charlie pointed at a hole that was three times larger than Charlie's couch. "That's Oliver's cave. We can get closer." Charlie led Draco in an oblique path across the rock face, and sure enough, when they neared the mountain, Draco heard Oliver's roar. It was not jarring at all, and almost harmonized with itself. And then, just like Charlie promised, a jet of fire shot out of the cave. It startled Draco and he immediately slammed the brakes on his broom.

"Oh holy shit! That's AWESOME!" Draco whooped and darted forward to pull even with Charlie. "I can feel the heat from back there."

"Yeah. Let's leave poor Olly alone, don't want him chasing us all over the place."

After a few minutes, Charlie took a sharp right turn and headed over the forest. He dipped down and landed in a small clearing. "Okay, we're gonna meet Ming. She's very, very smart. She's only a baby, so she's about 8 feet long. She'll get up to 25 feet. She's very playful—the Liondragons are the most social. We already fed her this week so we're not in danger of being lunch. But, she WILL blast flame if she gets nervous. Let me introduce you first okay?" Draco nodded and felt his palms grow sweaty in his thick dragon-skin gloves.

Charlie gave a sharp, ear-piercing whistle, and then yelled, "MING! MING!" He whistled again. Draco heard a loud snuffling and branches cracking. He caught a glimpse of the bright red scales under the shadows of the trees and watched as Charlie stopped, still, and waited for the dragon to approach. Ming jumped around like a giant Labrador retriever, pawing at the ground and rubbing her cheek and shoulders against Charlie's chest. Her long tail thumped against the ground. Draco smiled at Charlie because he was just as excited as the dragon. Laughing, and calling little phrases like, 'Aww, who's my good girl!' Charlie had wrapped both his arms around Ming's head and planted a kiss on the tip of her snout. Draco thought for a second that Charlie was an idiot because of the possibility of a flame burst. Draco started laughing when he heard Charlie talking in his stern, "authority" voice.

"Listen, Ming! You listen to me! Shh!" Charlie tapped Ming's nose with his finger. "You listen! You need to behave. This is important!" Ming's tail wagged but she stilled and watched Charlie attentively. "I want you to meet someone. He's pretty important to me. So try not to blast him, okay? Come on." Charlie tugged gently on Ming, and headed toward Draco.

Draco was momentarily frozen by the overwhelming presence of the dragon. Even though she was small, for a dragon, she was still twice as big as that awful Buckbeak. She approached Draco with extreme curiosity. She circled around him, and started sniffing him from his feet to his neck. She ducked her head under Draco's arm and shot her forked tongue at his face. Charlie clapped Draco's shoulder. "She likes you!"

Draco tentatively patted Ming on the top of her head. She made a happy snuffle noise that was almost a purr, and ruffled the webbing around her neck. Suddenly, she took off into the forest, bounding with little jumps. Draco looked up at Charlie. "She's really pretty!"

"Yeah. She's been here since she was an egg. Liondragons are approachable, but she's most definitely friendly because of the higher interaction with us trainers. That's unusual for a dragon to be this tame." Charlie glanced after Ming. She was darting around, bouncing off one tree to another. After a few seconds she came hurtling back at Charlie.

"Oh, shit!" Charlie pushed Draco away and braced himself for impact. Sure enough, Ming barreled right at Charlie, and had Charlie not wrapped his arms around her neck he would've been run into the ground.

"You're a nut! Ming! You silly goof! You're not 80 kilos anymore!" Charlie slid to the ground and started laughing as Ming prodded him with her nose. Draco approached and knelt next to Charlie. Ming snuffled at him and then flopped on the ground between the two men. Her tail worked a furrow into the ground and her short legs kicked in the air. Charlie took off his gloves and rubbed Ming's belly. He sighed contentedly.

After a few minutes, Charlie propped himself up on his elbows. He looked over Ming to watch Draco. His eyes were huge. He had his right hand curled around Ming's dewclaw and was rubbing her arm with his left. "Does Miss Ming meet with your approval?"

"I can't believe I'm holding hands with a dragon. She's warmer than I expected."

"Whenever you're ready we can go look for some of her scales. I bet she knocked some of them loose when she was rubbing up against the trees."

Draco grinned at Charlie. "I totally forgot that you said I could collect for potions."

Charlie stood up, and the motion startled Ming. She rolled onto her belly and snuffled at Charlie and then took off into the woods. Charlie took Draco's hand and pulled him to his feet. "C'mon." They walked through the woods.

Charlie pulled a small glint of red from a tree. "Here." He handed it to Draco. "There's another few in the bark, just a second." Draco helped Charlie dig them out of the tree.

"Hey, Charlie?" Draco froze suddenly.

"Hm?" Charlie looked up from the bark.

"Is that….is that a nest? With an egg?" Draco extended a slender finger and pointed a few feet ahead.

"Oh, shit. Oh, SHIT!" Charlie grabbed at Draco and started backing away. "We gotta get outa here. Come on. If Ming comes back and feels we're threatening her egg—" Charlie's voice was cut off by an earth shattering roar.

"Fuck!"

Acting on pure reflex, Draco dropped to the ground. His actions probably saved his life because a large fireball burst overhead. Charlie darted into the trees. "Ming, baby, I didn't know! Calm down! We're not here for your egg!" Ming let out another roar, and a fireball blasted into the tree that Charlie was using as cover. It went up in flames. He heard Ming pawing at the ground as she prepared to charge.

"Shit! Draco. We gotta get outa here. Can you get to the brooms?" Charlie called from around the tree. Draco was crawling as fast as he could. "Yeah, I think so. You gonna be okay?"

Charlie tried to skirt the tree but a large branch dropped down and pinned his leg at the ankle. The impact tripped Charlie and he fell headlong into the ground. He was pretty sure his leg was broken, but the fact that the branch was burning and his pant leg was on fire underneath the dragonskin chaps caused Charlie to feel a slight panic. He tried kicking his leg free but only confirmed that he had broken something. Charlie twisted, and pulled, but the flames only seemed to grow more intense the more he struggled. He was distracted by Ming's charge. She was a blur of red, of fire, and speed. Fortunately she leapt over Charlie's supine form instead of stopping to attack. She skidded to a stop in front of her nest. She planted her feet and let out another roar. She shot a few more fireballs but immediately calmed down once she realized her egg was safe.

Grimacing, Charlie reached down and grabbed the branch. The flames licked his hands, but Charlie couldn't be bothered to feel the pain. He had to get his leg free before Ming charged. He had a passing thought that he was a fool for taking off his gloves. With a great effort, Charlie grabbed the branch and lifted it high enough to get his leg free. He tried to stand, but couldn't put any weight on his leg.

He stumbled, but Draco was suddenly at his side. "I got you." Draco slipped under Charlie's arm and helped him stand. "Can you fly?"

"Yeah, yeah, we gotta get outa here. Fast." He tried to grab the broom but the pain from the burns had set in, and his nerves were in agony.

"Oh fuck. That hurts." Charlie flung his bad leg over the broom, using Draco as support.

Draco stumbled but managed to keep his footing. He ripped off his belt and made a makeshift handle for the broom. He slipped the loop over Charlie's burnt hands to rest near his elbows. Charlie nodded and lifted himself into the air. Draco followed quickly behind, keeping his hand on Charlie's side.

The ride was a blur, Draco was only focused on keeping Charlie from falling off his broom since he couldn't properly grab it, and Charlie was focused on getting them back to the cabin.

As soon as the cabin was in sight, Draco ordered, "Let me land first."

Charlie nodded, in leg in pain, and headed for his front lawn. Draco landed and braced himself to support Charlie. Charlie hovered a foot off the ground. "Help me with this." He shook his hands; the loop had tightened in flight and tied them to the broom.

Draco stood on his tiptoes and undid the belt, mindful of the burns. "C'mon, Charlie." Charlie slid from the broom and between his good leg and Draco, managed to land without falling. The barely made it up the steps.

"Charlie, we gotta get you to Mungo's!" Draco tried pulling Charlie to the fireplace.

"No, I'm fine. It's just a burn." Charlie's hands were shaking.

"You're an idiot! Your leg is broken!" Draco pulled on Charlie, again.

"Just use _Ferula_." Charlie's face creased with pain as his injured leg hit the ground.

"It isn't just that easy! You're burned! And, I've never had to heal a broken bone." Draco felt panic building.

"You can do it. I've had a lot of them before, it's easy." Charlie patted Draco's shoulder reassuringly.

"Okay, okay, um, can you stay a second while I put some blankets down? I need you on the ground, or the bed, not the couch."

Charlie nodded, face pale and beaded with sweat. "I don't need a blanket. I'll lay here." He lowered himself gingerly to the ground.

"Charlie. I need scissors! And I'm gonna need to use the Floo. Or we can both go; I gotta get to Mungo's. I need stuff for the burns. I can't spell those away. And I need some Essence of Dittany!" Draco's voice had a hint of panic as he rushed around gathering what he needed.

"Sure, sure." Charlie sprawled on the ground, relieved to have gotten Draco away from the dragon safely. He took stock of his injuries now that they were out of danger. The burns on his hands and legs were mild—he'd sustained worse handling dragon eggs. The break was bad, but not as bad as his childhood injuries his mother had healed. Charlie relaxed, and replied to Draco, "Scissors are in the butcher block on the counter with the knives." Draco scrambled into the kitchen and pulled out the scissors. He also grabbed the dishtowel and started filling up a large pot with water.

"Calm down kid. I'm fine." Charlie heard Draco rummaging around the kitchen in a panic. Drawers and cabinets were slamming and he heard Draco muttering to himself.

"Draco! Seriously. I've had worse. Calm down. I'm not dying!" Draco emerged from the kitchen laden down with an assortment of tools.

"Okay, I'm gonna cut your jeans and the leathers. I'm sorry. I gotta see where the break is."

Charlie tried to grab at Draco but Draco put his hands on Charlie's chest. "Stop! You're going to hurt yourself worse! What's wrong?"

"I'm gonna be okay. Calm down. You can't take care of me if you're in a tizzy." Charlie leaned his head up to Draco. "Kiss me."

Draco smiled, weakly, and gave Charlie a quick peck on the lips and then turned toward the injuries. His hands fluttered over Charlie's leg. "Don't distract me. I really don't think I can do this."

Charlie smiled. "Sure, sure. You can. It's just a burn." Draco nodded nervously and picked up the scissors. His hands were shaking—he couldn't understand why Charlie was so calm. Draco decided Charlie was in shock, that was why he was so placid. He took a deep breath and began cutting away the burnt and bloody jeans. The break didn't puncture the skin, but he could see a bulge of bone a little above Charlie's ankle. The skin was red and blistered from the burning branch.

Draco grabbed a towel and dipped it into the water. He gently sponged at Charlie's leg. He picked up his wand, and took a second to remember all of Madame Pomfrey's instructions.

"All healing spells the wand movement is backwards from every other spell. We're undoing damage, so the wands move to the left, not right. Now, for bones, the wand always starts with a sharp horizontal movement, and then, depending on the spell, your flick or twist or twirl. The most basic one you'll need is Ferula. Sharp left, and twirl until the bone resets properly." Draco had attempted to mimic her, but she interrupted with a loud, "LEFT twirl! Backwards, Malfoy, everything is backwards in healing!"

Draco muttered, "backwards, backwards" to himself and then carefully uttered _Ferula! _while moving his wand as practiced.

Charlie grunted fiercely as the bones reknit themselves and set. He glanced down and smiled. "Look. I can move my foot."

Draco nodded. "Yeah, but the burns. I gotta use the Floo. I need Dittany and some other stuff."

"Okay. Go ahead. I usually just use an ice pack, the burns will heal. They're no big deal."

"Fuck, Charlie, look, a burn is a big deal!" Draco glared in exasperation. He couldn't understand why Charlie wouldn't just come to the hospital.

"Not to a dragon tamer, they aren't. If I ran to Mungo's every time I got burned…look, kid, I'm fine." Charlie struggled to his feet. "Just get me some ice."

Draco moved to obey, and emerged from the kitchen a few seconds later with a handful of ice wrapped in a towel. He handed it to Charlie, who was now sitting on the couch. "Don't move. I'll be right back."

Charlie nodded. "Hey, Draco?"

Draco turned from the fireplace with a handful of Floo powder. "I'm sorry for taking you into a danger like that. It was reckless. You really could've been hurt terribly. I'm sorry."

Draco rolled his eyes and stepped into the fireplace. "You're practically dying and you're worried about me. You idiot."

Before Charlie could respond, Draco had disappeared into the Floo network.

"I'm not dying." Charlie called to the now-empty room.

"I'm really not." He shook his head and held the ice against his leg.


	13. Fireball Scales

Draco sprinted from the Floo in the Staff Breakroom at Saint Mungo's and rounded the corner to head to the Poisons and Potions Ward. He passed the inprocessing desk and a confused Healer Desaise yelled at him, "Ho! Master Malfoy! We weren't expecting you until next Friday? Is everything alright?"

"Yeah no time to chat gotta go!" Draco yelled over his shoulder as he barreled past a witch with blood streaming from her side.

After a few more turns and a set of stairs he made it to Healer Potio's office. He stopped outside the door and took a second to catch his breath. He knew that Potio's moodiness had to be handled delicately, or else he'd never get the ingredients and help he needed.

He rapped on the door with one knuckle, and shifted his weight from one foot to the other while he waited impatiently.

"Who'sa there? Come'a on!" Potio pulled open the door and his irritable scowl immediately changed into a wide smile.

"Draco! Draco! How'sa my favorite apprentice!? You a'coming a week early?" He greeted Draco warmly, throwing his arm around Draco's shoulders and welcoming him into the office.

"Master Healer Potio! I was hoping you'd be here. I'm not here for work until next Friday." He looked at Potio, and then realizing a little flattery wouldn't hurt, he added, "I need your help."

Potio propped his hands on his wide waist. "Oh?"

"Well, you see, I was hiking with a friend. And I found something you might like. Something really valuable and expensive for potions. But when we collected it, there was a problem. He got burned real bad. I don't know how to heal a burn."

"Yes?" Potio rubbed his hands together eagerly.

Draco pulled the three red scales from his pocket. They were each the size of his palm and worth over 300 galleons a piece on the open market.

"Oh, fuck! Chinese Fireball Dragon scales?!" Potio reached for them hesitantly. "May I?"

"I brought them for you. I figured you would know best how to use them." Draco made his voice carry a tone of adulation. Draco was, after all, a skilled manipulator: flattery is the easiest and most basic form of manipulation.

Potio took them from Draco and immediately slid one under a microscope.

"Oh. Oh. Oh. This is'a fresh! Shit! Draco!" Potio turned away from the microscope and glanced at Draco who had his hands in his pockets and was leaning against the worktable.

"You'sa stole a dragon scale? And not any scale. A _Chinese fireball's _scale?"

"Do you want them?"

"FUCK YES!" Potio slammed his hands on the table. "Do you'sa know what'a this is worth?"

"Almost a thousand galleons." Potio had gone back to staring into the microscope and wasn't paying Draco any more attention.

After a few minutes more of examining the scales, Potio started rummaging around a cabinet. Draco took this as a chance to ask for Potio's help. "So, my buddy, he got burned pretty badly by that dragon. I'm not sure what I need to help heal him. I was thinking, calendula for sure, and maybe essence of dittany."

"Yes, yes. Also grab some'a Spanish Fly, and Dwarf Nettle. Oh, also we'll make some Causticum, but he won't like taking that."

Potio grabbed a quill and labeled the wide-mouth jar lovingly, "Chinese Fireball Scales." He turned to Draco and admonished, "Grind the calendula, I have it labeled as 'marigold,' with the Spanish Fly and Dwarf nettle. Make a paste, I'd use maybe Aloe as the gel-base. You can add the Dittany directly to that."

Draco nodded and began grabbing ingredients. He used a mortar and pestle and ground the Spanish Fly wings into a fine powder. He added the bright yellow petals of the calendula, and the leaves of the dwarf nettle. He quickly had them ground into an orange paste. While he was working Potio had peeled a few pieces of Aloe Vera and cut them into small pieces. He slid the cutting board to Draco who began tossing them into the paste. He mashed them, added the Dittany, and used the pestle to stir the mixture.

"Potio, this look right?" Draco proffered the mortar. Potio dipped his finger in and smeared it against his thumb. He nodded and handed Draco a jar and spatula. While Draco scooped the mixture up, Potio began rummaging through his ingredient shelves.

"Causticum is slaked lime and potash sulfate. Add one part of each to ten parts water. No more than 500 ml at a time. Shake and drink."

Draco scooped the two powders out of the giant bottles that Potio had slid across the table into little glass jars and popped in the cork stoppers. "How often should this be taken?"

Potio laughed. "Once. If you can'a get him to drink again after 24 hours…" Potio shrugged. "That'sa best."

Draco nodded. "Thank you."

"You'sa crazy. Picking dragon scales." Potio rubbed his hands together.

"Just looking out for my mentor." Draco grinned and slipped the powders into his pocket along with a few rolls of bandages. He grabbed the jar from the table and nodded at Potio. "I gotta go. I'll see you next Friday? I was wondering if we could make something that would prevent burns."

Potio scratched the back of his head "Hafta research that...We'sa discuss it. You's going back'a to collect Dragons?"

"If I can find some way to not get burned, most definitely. It caught his pantleg and dragonhide chaps on fire. It's intense."

"I'ma do some reading. You too, and we'sa discuss it next Friday, no?"

Draco agreed, although he really wasn't sure what books he'd need. Hopefully Madame Pince and Madam Pomfrey would be able to point him in the right direction.

He waved as he let himself out the door. As soon as the door shut and Potio wouldn't think he was being rude, he took off at a full sprint. He took the flight of stairs in two leaps and then rounded the corner, waved at Desaise and slid the last few feet before stumbling into the Floo. He grabbed a handful of powder and tossed it to the ground before calling out "Dragon Master Lodge."

He staggered through the fireplace into Charlie's lounge. Charlie had struggled out of his dragonhide jacket, but the buckles on the chaps were too much. He was laying on the couch with his burned leg hanging off the edge, over the armrest. The ice had long since melted and the towel was sitting in a soggy puddle in front of the couch. Charlie's hands were resting on his stomach, and he was snoring softly.

Draco set down the jar and picked up the towel. He tried to sop up the water, but gave up and took the towel to the sink. He grabbed the rest of the towels out of the drawer, and grabbed two cups. One he filled with water before grabbing a spoon and headed back to Charlie.

Draco measured, carefully, two spoonfuls of the slaked lime and two spoonfuls of potash sulfate. He then counted out loud as he added twenty spoonfuls of water. The mixture was cloudy, even though he stirred it thoroughly. He held it up to the light and then smelled it. Draco wrinkled his nose. The mixture smelled strong and looked chalky—there was no way that Charlie was going to drink that willingly.

Draco used one of the towels to dry the floor and knelt next to the couch. "Charlie!" Draco shook Charlie's shoulder. "Hey, Charlie. I need you to sit up a little. You gotta drink this, and I gotta get you outa those chaps so I can put some ointment on your burns.

Charlie stirred, groggy. "Hey." A smile spread across his face when he saw Draco. Draco, however, had no time for pleasantries.

"Charlie, stand up. Let me get your pants and chaps off, and then I'll wrap your hands."

Charlie raised an eyebrow at Draco's imperious tone, but he complied and stood awkwardly balanced on one leg. Kneeling in front of Charlie, Draco quickly undid the buckles and buttons and managed to slide down Charlie's pants without causing too much irritation to his burns. Standing, Draco grabbed Charlie under the armpits and helped lower him gently back to the couch. After Charlie was seated, Draco took out his wand and cast the _tergeo _spell to clean the burn marks and blood.

He pulled the jar from his voluminous robes and scooped out a generous dollop. Draco smeared the orange paste over Charlie's hands. He tried to be gentle, certain that Charlie was in pain. He took the long bandages and wound them around Charlie's hands in a precise, methodical manner.

Charlie watched Draco work with an amused expression. He'd never once put medication on a blister, and he really didn't think these burns were anything to merit this level of attention. Draco finished and leaned back on his heels. "Okay, Charlie, look. You have to drink this. It's gonna taste like shit. You have to drink it though. Don't spit it out." Draco handed Charlie the glass. He cupped it gently between his bandaged hands and raised an eyebrow at Draco.

"I don't think you understand that these are really minor burns. And this smells godawful. I don't need all this."

"Charlie! Seriously. You need to drink it. It'll help you heal." Draco glared at Charlie until he raised the glass to his lips, and then he busied himself with Charlie's leg.

Charlie took a sip and immediately spat it back into the glass. He choked out, "Fuck, Draco, that's terrible!"

"Shut up and drink it!"

Charlie glared down at Draco's pale blonde hair. He took a deep breath, and held it while gulping down the potion. He finished and sputtered, "Ugh! I need something to wash that down, quick! I'm grabbing a butterbeer."

He tried to stand, but Draco shook his head and put his hand against Charlie's chest. In a stern voice, he ordered, "Water. You can only drink water. I'll get it." He stood up, bandages and the jar of salve bundled in one hand, and took the glass from Charlie. He grinned at the face Charlie was making—he scraped his tongue repeatedly against his teeth and wrinkled his nose.

Draco returned promptly with a glass of water. "Here you go. Now, I'll need to change your bandages in about four hours. I don't want you walking on your leg. Ferrula resets the bone and began the healing process, but it takes time to completely heal. You need to rest."

Charlie felt a huge grin spreading across his face.

"What. Why are you smiling? What's so funny?" Draco crossed his arms indignantly.

"You. You're back." Charlie reached one mittened hand toward Draco. "Come here, let me hold you."

"What do you mean, I'm back." Draco sat down next to Charlie, ducking under Charlie's arm.

"The confident you is back. The you I met in Mungo's. It's just nice to see. Healing gives you this, I don't know. Something. You have this sense of purpose." Charlie kissed the top of Draco's head. Draco felt a huge sense of relief that someone else noticed what he had struggled to put into words for Headmistress MacGonagall's stupid start-of-term essay. Healing was more than just an outlet or distraction for Draco. It brought him peace.

* * *

When I was writing this chapter, I continued on for a bit more. Upon proofreading it I felt that this was a good chapter conclusion. However, I liked the next interaction so much I'm going to put it here. I'm not sure if I'm going to use this in the next chapter, or not, but here you go, anyway...

"I'm really not hurt that bad, you know. What do you want for lunch?" Charlie tried to stand.

"You will not put pressure on that leg, Charlie Weasley. Do you hear me!" Draco struggled to stand up before Charlie, and keep him on the couch.

Charlie started laughing. "Fine. What do you propose we do for lunch, then?"

"I don't know. I guess I can cook." Charlie tried, he really did, to not laugh at the expression of consternation that Draco wore.


	14. Mothers and Sons

"I'm really not hurt that bad, you know. What do you want for lunch?" Charlie tried to stand.

"You will not put pressure on that leg, Charlie Weasley. Do you hear me!" Draco struggled to stand up before Charlie, and keep him on the couch.

Charlie started laughing. "Fine. What do you propose we do for lunch, then?"

"I don't know. I guess I can cook. You said it was like potions, right?" Charlie tried, he really did, to not laugh at the expression of consternation that Draco wore.

Charlie wrapped his arms around Draco and pulled him back into his lap. He suggested, "How about we bar-b-que?"

Draco spoke into Charlie's chest, "Barbeewhat?"

"It's a muggle thing. They think it's great fun. It involves cooking over open flame. Well, coals, anyway."

"I guess." Draco shrugged, not sold on the idea.

"It's easy. Here. There's two sirloin steaks in the fridge. Put them in a pan. Rub them with salt, pepper, diced garlic, and a little bit of oil. You do that, and I won't get up and come help you." Charlie kissed the top of Draco's head.

After a few minutes of rummaging, Draco peeked his head around the corner and said "Is this okay?" He proffered the pan for Charlie's inspection.

"Yeah. That's perfect. Okay, you gotta help me get to the front porch. I'll set up the grill." Charlie hefted himself to his feet and motioned for Draco

Draco set the pan down on the counter and moved to help Charlie. In an awkward three legged gait, the two moved to the porch. Charlie sat down on one of his hewn chairs. "I promise I won't move from the chair. Go grab two cobs of corn and put some butter and salt and wrap them with some foil, like a big fizzing whizbee."

"Do you realize how silly that sounds?" Draco leaned forward and kissed Charlie. "I'll go bring the corn-cob-whizbees and the steaks though."

Charlie used _wingardium leviosa_ to levitate the bag of charcoal and dump it into the grill. With another flick of the wand and a muttered _incendio!_ the charcoal was burning brightly. By the time Draco returned the flames had died down and the charcoals were glowing red embers. "Here. Put the meat on the grill."

"Directly?" Draco looked at the grill suspiciously.

"Yeah. Like this. _Wingardium leviosa!" _Charlie caused the steaks to jump out of the pan onto the grate. _"Accio tongs." _

Charlie reached for the floating tongs and handed them to Draco. "You know, when Fred and George passed their OWLS and were allowed to use magic outside Hogwarts, they used it for everything. I feel like I'm impersonating them. They even aparated from their bedroom to the kitchen. It drove Mum nuts. It takes more work sometimes to use magic than not."

Draco smiled and poked at the steaks with the tongs. "How do you know they won't burn? And, I can see Fred and George doing that. They had a knack for being obnoxiously funny, those two."

"That's why you keep checking them, and flipping them every few minutes. Put the corn on." Charlie tried to hide his amused expression as Draco gingerly picked up the heavily foiled corn and tried so carefully to slip the corn onto the grill.

"You know what you need, a butterbeer. One can't properly grill without a beer in one hand." Charlie grinned at Draco.

"Do you want a butterbeer?" Draco asked wryly. "Because, until the causticum is digested, I don't want you taking any alcohol into your system. It might cause an adverse reaction."

"Well, yeah, I'd like a butterbeer. For one thing, we did just have one hell of a day. But I'm serious about you needing to hold a beer while doing this. It enhances the grilling experience. Gives the griller a sense of balance and ease." Charlie spoke with authoritative knowledge that made Draco wonder if he was quoting from some muggle grilling guidebook. Draco rolled his eyes, silently poked at the steaks, and then disappeared into the house.

While he was gone a large tawny owl fluttered down to Charlie's lap. Charlie took the envelope with an unsettled feeling in his stomach. Draco had barely left the tips of his fingers exposed in his exuberant bandaging, and Charlie dug his fingers into the envelope. He pulled out the letter and scowled as he read,

"Charlie and Draco,

Narcissa just arrived at Hogwarts, looking for her son. She'd been corresponding with me via owl and is quite upset that Draco has not arrived home. Lucius will be released tomorrow and she expects her son to welcome his father.

Proceed wisely.

And no, I did not tell her his location.

Minerva."

Charlie sighed and resisted the urge to crumple the parchment. He threw his head back and stared at the whorls and knots in the wood overhead.

"Hey, Draco?" Charlie called, reluctantly. Draco appeared with a glass of ice water with a sprig of mint and a slice of lemon floating artfully, and a butterbeer.

"I figured you might want something to drink, too, since I'm forbidding alcohol." Draco set the glass down on the end of Charlie's armrest, and taking a swig of his butterbeer he reached for the tongs. He pinched them together, and motioned to the beer.

"I still don't see what the beer is supposed to do. Am I supposed to flip the corn?" Draco looked at Charlie and noticed the owl preening on the porch railing.

"That's a beautiful owl. He yours?"

"Nope. It's MacGonagal's."

Draco gave Charlie a curious stare, and took a swig of butterbeer. "You gonna tell me while MacGonagal's owl is hanging out at your place?"

"She's waiting for our reply to this." Charlie proffered the letter to Draco.

A scowl transformed Draco's face, and he crumpled the letter and used the tongs to shove it through the grate and into the coals. Charlie opened his mouth to comment, but paused while trying to choose the right words. He pursed his lips in thought.

"He can rot in Azkaban for all I care."

"Okay. Well, um. I'm not asking you to tell your parents about us, because quite frankly I'm still working out how to introduce you to my family without starting a war. Mom and Bill are the only two that are semi accepting of the fact that I'm gay. But, I think we need to think long term. Like a game of chess."

"Chess?" Draco took another drink, and flipped the steaks.

"Yeah. I think, like, okay, the end goal here is to reestablish a relationship with my family, and with your mom."

"I guess."

"Well, if we make foolish moves here now, that will give us less to work with later. If you don't even let your mom know you're safe—Draco, she's probably thinking someone kidnapped you for revenge!—that's like, costing us a rook or a knight, and down the road, we won't be able to do anything because we'll have nothing on the board. Nothing to trade, nothing to move."

Draco flipped the steaks again, and downed the rest of his beer. "I'm grabbing a plate, I think they're done." He disappeared into the house, and slammed the door behind him. Charlie let out a growl of frustration.

After a few seconds Draco appeared with another butterbeer, a small satchel, plates, knives, and forks. He silently handed Charlie the leather bag and busied himself with getting the steaks off the grill. He began cutting Charlie's steak into bite-sized pieces, which made Charlie smile amusedly.

"How do I know the corn is done?"

"It's probably done now. You can open it, or squeeze it, if you can feel it giving way it means it is cooked." Draco used the tongs to pull apart the foil. He picked up the corn and used the knife to slice off all the kernels. He handed Charlie the meal, and a fork. Draco took his steak and sat down on the chair near Charlie. He meticulously cut a bite, and when he finished chewing, observed, "This is probably the best steak I've ever had."

"That good, huh? It's probably because you cooked it. Everything tastes better when you cook it yourself, I think." Charlie took a bite, and added, "Definitely delicious. Thanks for dicing everything."

"I'd like to try to cook again. This is kind of fun." Draco set his plate aside and took the satchel. He pulled out a thick sheet of vellum, and a quill. He dipped it in the emerald ink, and wrote, "Dear Mother," and then looked at Charlie. "Okay. Now what?"

Charlie almost choked on his corn. "Oh, wow. I didn't think you were considering my advice."

"I don't want her worrying that someone is torturing me."

"Well, I guess, you could be extremely short in your reply, or completely honest. Tell her why you aren't comfortable coming home. I can't help you with that. I can help you if you're going for brevety, though. I wrote mum last week and told her 'my feelings are hurt, give me time and don't worry about me. I love you.'"

Draco nodded, seriously. "I think the best would be to try to make her understand, even though she won't."

"Mothers understand a lot—you spent 9 months inside her, you know. You've got that connection whether you want to acknowledge it or not. That's why my mum is so intense about us kids. "

Draco snorted. "Yeah, well, your mom is unique. Everyone at Hogwarts has wished at least a little bit that they were members of the Weasley family."

This time Charlie did choke on his corn. After a coughing fit and a drink of water, he sputtered, "What?"

"Don't be daft. You know you have the perfect family."

Charlie smiled, "Not really. We have our moments, I guess. But, I didn't know you thought we were…well, you know, Ron has some angry reports about you saying things about the family."

Draco blushed a little. "Well, Ron has a way of irritating me."

Charlie laughed, and Draco ducked his head. He started writing, and soon filled the paper with elegant script. He carefully tied the letter to the owl's leg and told it, "Malfoy Mansion. Narcissa. Don't give it to anyone else, got it?" The owl blinked slowly, and then fluttered into the sky.

Draco handed Charlie the quill and another sheat of vellum. "Your turn. Tell Mrs. Weasley that you want to introduce her to me."

Charlie's jaw dropped and he sat there gaping at Draco.

"If you don't tell her, I'm going to write her and tell her you've had a serious injury from a ferocious dragon and as your attending healer I would appreciate it if she would come visit."

The quill clattered to the wooden deck. Charlie's eyes opened as wide as possible, and he stared at Draco in disbelief.

"You wouldn't dare."

"I wrote my mother, it is only fair that you write your's."

"Let's do the dishes." Charlie tried to stand up but Draco was faster.

"If you dare to put pressure on that leg, I will hex you." He brandished the wand threateningly at Charlie's nose. "Batbogey or Stupify, your call."

Charlie started laughing. "I doubt your Batbogey is worse than Ginny's. I already wrote her a few days ago. But not about you. If you want to meet her this badly, though, sure, I'll invite her. Or we could just go to the Burrow, now, if you want."


	15. Patronus and Deletrius

Okay: time for some honesty here! I worked a 36 hour stint at work. When I came home, I had no recollection at all of writing the ending to last chapter. In fact, I kind of suspect that my dog-sitter was screwing around on my computer and added the ending. But, it had been well over my self-imposed one week limit to update, and I figured "I really need to update!"

AND, I liked it. I just don't think Draco's emotionally prepared to handle Molly. Well, maybe Molly, but definitely not Ron or the rest of the Weasley boys. So…now that I'm trying to write the next chapter, I feel like I put myself in a corner! Anyway, here you go, and always, enjoy it and please give me some feedback =D

* * *

Draco looked at Charlie in shock. "I didn't think you'd actually call my bluff."

Charlie pulled Draco into his lap and smoothed Draco's eyebrows with the little tips of his fingers that were sticking out from the bandages. "Honestly, I'm still a little sore at Dad. He was a right bastard about the whole thing. I will write Mum though, if you want. Or you can. We can go to the Burrow, if you want, too."

"I have a better idea. Let's go inside, and I'll write Mrs. Weasley. Or Ginny?" Draco slid off Charlie's lap and gathered the satchel and their wands. He reached for Charlie.

"I could apparate us." Charlie smiled down at Draco.

"It's like, 50 steps to your couch." Draco grabbed Charlie around the waist and they hopped toward the front door.

Charlie got settled on the couch with his leg elevated on a chair from the dining set. "Can you please take my bandages off?"

Draco looked sternly at Charlie. "Not yet."

Charlie sighed and reigned in the urge to take the bandages off himself. It was nice to see Draco with some confidence. He was so skittish and Charlie felt he was just beginning to see the amount of hurt and trauma that plagued Draco the past year.

Draco sat at the other end of he couch and tucked his feet under Charlie, who ran his fingertips in little swirls around Draco's calves. Draco started on the letter to Mrs. Weasley, his brow furrowed in concentration.

"Dear Mrs. Weasley,

I am not sure how to start this letter. It is right of me, I think, to at least introduce myself to you, since I am apparently part of the conflict between your family and Charles.

He is too good to me, and I do not deserve him. I am thankful that he has been such a positive, healing force in my life.

You have been a wonderful example of what a mother should be. I have watched you protect and care for you children, and loving them unconditionally. I know I am not the only student at Hogwarts who wished his mother was more like you.

I hope one day to have your blessing.

Respectfully,

D. L. M."

Draco folded the parchment and tucked it into an envelope. "Do you have an owl?"

"Naw, but just a second, I'll send for one." Charlie picked up his wand and summoned a patronus. He whispered to it gently, and it took off in a misty ball of light.

Draco watched Charlie and felt a sadness spill over him. Draco twirled his wand around and realized Charlie was watching him. He tried for nonchalance, but as usual, Charlie saw right through all of Draco's façade.

"I, uh, I can't do a Patronus Charm." Draco shrugged as if he wasn't bothered by this fact.

"Would you like to learn how?"

"Yeah. But. I've tried."

"Okay, how'd it go?"

"Not good." Draco busied himself with collecting his stationary and quill. "Basically, if you're not pure, you know-'cause a patronus is the corporeal presence of something that is good and pure, it's your happiness, you know-if you don't have something like that inside, you'll either get nothing, or if you've got evil inside, then maggots come out instead of the patronus." Draco fiddled with his wand.

"Ah. Do you have a happy memory?"

"You're not listening, Charlie! It's more than just the happiness. I'm not good. I—this is what I was trying to say at breakfast! I've got this sickness in me and it's corrupted me and it taints everything I do, and hurts everyone around me."

Charlie moved with a quickness. He pinned Draco to the couch. Charlie gripped Draco's face despite the bandages, resting his elbows on Draco's shoulders. "Listen to me. Listen up!"

Draco was in complete shock. Charlie had never, ever, been aggressive like this. Draco quit struggling and watched Charlie with wide, scared eyes.

"You are not evil." Charlie shook Draco for emphasis. "You are NOT evil! Do you understand me!" Draco tried to shake his head, but Charlie held him firmly.

"Say it." Charlie's nose was almost touching Draco's.

Draco put his hands against Charlie's chest and mumbled, "but how do you know?"

"Oh, Draco, Draco," Charlie's voice broke and wrapped Draco in a hug. Charlie began admonishing and scolding Draco—not unlike the rants Molly Weasley was known for—and after a few moments Draco relaxed enough to process what had just happened. Charlie wasn't mad at him. Charlie wasn't yelling because of something Draco did.

"And it doesn't matter, Voldemort is gone, you're cleared, you're not that same trapped young man anymore, you're of age, you're making your own choices now, and—"

A bright ball of light swirled into the room, and a horse Patronus emerged and trotted, flicking it's tail and mane. Ginny's voice spoke, "Charlie! Errol is still out getting the morning post. Yes, it's 3 pm, the old blighter. I have sent Pigwidgeon. I didn't ask Ron, as he's out practicing for his muggle driving test with Herminone. Come play quidditch with us tonight! Harry, me, and Ron against George, Angela, and Katie. Come play, I know you miss it."

Draco pushed Charlie off of him. "Ginny's better at Quidditch than anyone. Even better than Pucey, Urquhart, or Potter. Or Wood."

Charlie laughed. "Yeah, I know. I taught her."

Draco grinned. "No wonder Wood fancied you."

"What?"

"Oh, don't tell me that the Romeo of Hogwarts didn't realize his own Keeper harbored secret feelings for him." Draco smirked at Charlie.

"No, I didn't. He was always so opposed to my 'extracurricular activities.'" Charlie made finger quotes in the air.

"Well, he did. I think he loved you more than he loved Quidditch, and that's kind of hard to believe because he was obsessive about the game. The Slytherin team used to screw with him. Try to get the pitch after he'd already reserved it. He'd get so angry." Draco laughed. "It was really funny spinning him up over something so simple as a game."

Charlie mussed Draco's hair. "Yeah, he really ran the team, captain was more of an honorary title that I held. Anyway. While we wait for little Pig to get here, let's make a patronus."

Draco stared at the ceiling and chewed the inside of his cheek in frustration. "Charlie. You're not listening to me."

"Draco. You're not listening to me." Charlie said in the same exasperated tone that Draco used, then laughed.

"Okay fine, look, we'll try it but I'm telling you, I can't!"

"That's why." Charlie reached over and took Draco's wand out of his hands. "The patronus is the result of what's in your head. You think you're wrong, you get bad results. That's why that obnoxious pink bitch, Orlidge? Whatever her name was. That's why she can produce a patronus, because she think's she's right."

Charlie cast another patronus and spoke to it, "Ginnybinny! I can't play! I got some burns from one of the dragons here. And I sort of broke my leg. Don't tell Mum, it's already been healed but I can't walk on it for a few more days. Come over sometime this week, just let me know when so I can pick up some icreceam."

He leaned back on the couch, and put his arm around Draco. "Why doesn't your patronus have a form?"

"Cause it's too big for the house." Charlie handed Draco his wand back. "Do you mind that I invited Ginny over?"

"It's your house, and she's your sister. What form does it take?"

Charlie rubbed Draco's earlobe. "A dragon. So you do mind, then."

"Yeah, that'd be kinda big for the house. Okay, you're right, I just don't think she'll be okay with me being here. I mean, we're in school together but, she doesn't like me."

Charlie leaned in and kissed Draco's cheek. "You don't know what Ginny likes or doesn't like."

Draco leaned into Charlie, taking comfort from the contact, his heartbeat. Another of Ginny's patronus horses galloped through the window.

"Char, how are you always getting hurt? Wednesday, Harry has some plans with Neville. Ron and Herminone are going to dinner, and I'll be the only one here. I'll stop in Diagon Alley on my way over, so if you need anything for dinner let me know. Around 3 or 4 sound good to you?"

Charlie grinned and flicked his wand. "I was thinking pizza. Bring the toppings. See you then."

As the light swirled in a spiral out of the room, Charlie turned his attention to Draco, who was watching Charlie somberly. He nibbled on his earlobe, and pressed his lips to his neck. Draco's breathing hitched and Charlie whispered, "maybe we should just create more happy memories for you, so you can make a patronus." He ran his tongue in little circles and bit gently on Draco's neck.

"If you take off my bandages, I can do things that'll make you smile."

Draco pulled back and put his fingers on Charlie's lips. "I have a better idea." Draco slid off the couch and knelt between Charlie's legs. Draco pointed his wand at Charlie's shorts and muttered, "_Deletrius!"_

"You fucking disintegrated my—" Charlie's irritated outburst was cut off because Draco began licking Charlie. He slid his hands up under Charlie's shirt, across his abs. He dug his fingers into Charlie's side as he rested his thumbs on the bony ridge of Charlie's hips.

Charlie's bandaged hands fluttered between Draco's blonde hair and the armrest.

Draco was completely lost in exploring Charlie. He continued to lick Charlie, as he grew hard, and then, mustering up his courage, Draco tried to take him all the way into his mouth. Charlie made a noise that was halfway between a grunt, and a moan. Draco moved his head, slowly, and tried to keep a steady rhythm. He tried to suck, and move his tongue around, and felt Charlie's foreskin slide with the motion.

After a few minutes Draco let go and leaned back on his heels. His face was flushed bright red. Charlie saw a world of emotion and thoughts in the discomfited expression Draco wore. Before he could say anything, Charlie ordered, "grab my arm."

Charlie apparated them to his bed. While waiting for Draco to untangle himself, Charlie stripped off his shirt.

"I'm going to deletrius these bandages is what I'm gonna do…get your clothes off, since I can't do it!" Charlie tugged at the wraps, but Draco had foreseen this reaction and fashioned them in such a way that Charlie couldn't untie them.

Draco avoided Charlie's eyes, but did as asked. In short order he was naked as Charlie. His pale skin was almost translucent. A small patch of blonde ran from his bellybutton downward. Charlie reached out to touch him, but Draco reacted involuntarily and pulled away from Charlie.

Charlie forced himself not to sigh, and instead stretched out on the bed. He was hard and took an immense amount of his self-control to not grab Draco and pick up where they left off in the living room.

"Draco, I don't know what's you're thinking about, right now, and if you want to stop, we can."

Draco shook his head and put his hands on Charlie's upper thigh. "I just realized I'm not any good, and…" Draco looked at his long, thing fingers, and thought how they contrasted against Charlie's freckled, and muscled leg.

"Oh." Charlie smiled. "That's all you're worried about?"

"It's not funny, Charles."

"I'm not laughing. Okay, a little, but you know, the thought that you're that concerned about my enjoyment is—" Charlie struggled to find the right word. If he said 'cute,' he knew Draco would be annoyed. "—I've never had anyone concerned with what I was feeling or thinking before, and believe me when I say, I enjoyed what you were doing out there." He put his hands out for Draco, and pulled him toward him.

Draco's body slid across Charlie's. The skin-on-skin contact felt delicious. Draco ran his hands over Charlie's chest, down the washboard abs, and felt the little dip at the pelvis.

Charlie nuzzled Draco's ear and mumbled "Let me make you smile."


	16. Pleasure

Charlie, frustrated with the bandages on his hands, managed to twist around so that Draco was underneath him. Draco stretched out, feeling more and more comfortable as Charlie continued to nuzzle his neck. He playfully bit a trail down Draco's neck and chest. Charlie grinned when he realized he was leaving bright red hickies all over Draco's pale skin. They formed a line across his collar-bones and down his ribs. Charlie paused at point of Draco's pelvis and licked back up Draco's body, over the marks he'd left.

"Draco, do you want me to stop?" Charlie propped himself up on his elbows and looked deep into Draco's eyes. He needed confirmation that Draco was willing to continue.

Draco shoved his hands into Charlie's hair and pushed his head back down, "Please, please, Charlie."

Charlie suppressed a laugh, and continued to explore Draco's body. He kissed Draco's knees, and worked back up to his hips. When he ran his tongue over the ridges and dips from Draco's pelvis, Draco could barely contain himself. He made a desperate noise and thrust himself toward Charlie. Charlie slid his bandaged hands underneath Draco's lifted ass and lifted him closer. "I guess, since I can't use my hands like last time, I'll just have to…" Charlie's voice trailed off as he brushed his lips along Draco's hardening cock. Draco moaned and shifted, trying to keep the contact with Charlie's lips.

Charlie's tongue shot out, a teasing caress. He pulled back and looked up the plane of Draco's body. "Draco. I want to hear you. Tell me if you like what I'm doing, or if you want me to do something else. Okay?"

"I want you to stop talking, Merlin, just whatever you were doing, your mouth, dear sweet Salazar, oh fuck! Please!" Draco's hips thrust wildly toward Charlie as his speech grew incoherent.

Grinning, Charlie took his time and continued to tease pleasure out of Draco. He licked, and sucked, and caressed, coaxing moans out of Draco. He took Draco's balls into his mouth, gently, massaging them with his tongue. He licked his way up Draco's shaft, carefully avoiding any contact with the head. Draco groaned with anticipation.

Without warning, Charlie took all of Draco into his mouth, until he could feel him in the back of his throat. Charlie swallowed, and the muscle spasm caused Draco to yell out Charlie's name. Charlie pulled back so just the tip of Draco's cock was in his mouth. He ran his tongue in a circle around the head, and then plunged all the way down again. Draco lurched up, half-lifted off the bed, and was yelling "Char, Char, Char!" as his hands scrabbled for purchase on anything-the headboard, the sheets, the pillow, Charlie's hair, his shoulders. Charlie repeated this a dozen times, growing faster each time, until he felt Draco's body clench. Charlie immediately lifted Draco's ass to allow him to take Draco deeply into his mouth and throat. Draco started shaking as he climaxed, and Charlie swallowed.

"Damn." Draco flung his arms around Charlie's neck. Charlie slid up the bed and tucked a pillow under his head. He pulled Draco close. Draco leaned in to kiss Charlie, but Charlie grinned and pulled back. "I don't think you want to do that just yet. I mean, I think you taste fine, but, ah…" Charlie kissed Draco's cheek.

Draco pecked Charlie on the lips. "I've never felt anything like that before."

Charlie shrugged, a little uncomfortable. Even though he'd been honest with Draco about his sexual exploits, he was secretly a little embarrassed that he'd been with so many different men. He hid it behind his bravado of "experienced lover," and hoped it wouldn't be an issue for Draco.

Draco ran his hand from Charlie's chest, down the ribs, to the top of his knee, and back up again. He repeated it a few times before Charlie realized Draco was nervous. When his hand reached his nipple, Charlie snatched him and kissed his fingertips.

"Something you want to say?"

"Yeah-No. I mean, No." Draco pulled his hand out of Charlie's and rested them on Charlie's hips.

"Okay then, let's take a nap." Charlie reached to draw Draco close, but Draco burst out, "I can't do that!"

Charlie smirked, "You can't nap?"

"No. I can't, what you just did, I can't do that for you, I tried earlier and I don't know how…." Draco's voice got quiet. "You're still hard. I'm sorry."

"Oh, Draco!" Charlie pulled him close. "It's okay. It takes a lot practice to do what I did. And I really liked what you were doing-you couldn't tell how much I was enjoying myself?" Charlie kissed the top of Draco's head. "

"Well, let me try again. Or, um." Draco flushed bright red.

"Ah." Charlie felt himself smiling. "I would like that. A lot. But, I need my hands. And besides. Your perspective is a little different from mine. It isn't about having an orgasm. It's about enjoying you. Did you enjoy it?" Draco nodded. "I did, too. So that's all that matters. If you were still feeling unsatisfied, we could keep going. But I think if we keep going I'll end up pushing you past what you're comfortable with…" Charlie's voice trailed off as he looked into Draco's eyes searchingly. He didn't want Draco to think he was rejecting him.

Part of Draco thought that Charlie wasn't being completely honest about being satisfied with this afternoon's little bit of sex. The other part of him thought maybe his experiences with Amin Pyrites were influencing him. Draco had a moment of serious self-assessment. He had to agree that Charlie was probably right—he wasn't really ready to try anal sex with Charlie. The idea was fascinating—and by the powers of the Elder Wand, the way Charlie made him _feel _when he touched his ass-andhaving someone inside him had been a fantasy enough times for Draco during masturbation, but fantasy and reality were totally different things. Draco leaned in to kiss Charlie.

"M'kay. But I do want to try it."

A smile split Charlie's face. "I want too, too. We will." He kissed Draco back.

"Can you take these ruddy bandages off already?" Draco pursed his lips and gave Charlie a stern look.

"You are the most difficult patient I have ever had. Even at St. Mungo's, you didn't even fill out your intake form correctly!" He started to untie the knot on the left hand.

"That's cause I'm not in need of medical help. I'm fine!" He watched Draco gently unwind the strips of cloth. "And you know I definitely didn't need or want to be at Mungo's! That's why I was a right bastard then. You can't hold that against me."

"I rather enjoyed our breakfast at Mungo's, even if you didn't want to be there!" Draco retorted loftily. He held Charlie's hand, palm up. "Tell me if this causes you any discomfort." He put each finger through the complete range of motion, and then squeezed Charlie's hand into a fist.

"Bloody hell! That's amazing!" Charlie looked at his hand in amazement. The skin was slightly pink where the burns had been, but there was no other evidence that he had been injured.

"Do this for me." Draco held his hand up, and touched and released each finger to his thumb. Charlie repeated the motion. "Now faster." Draco waited a second, then asked, "Do you have feeling in each finger?"

"Merlin, Draco, you act like I lost my whole hand in the fire. It was just a burn. Look! Lookit! You healed me. Yes, I can feel my fingers. I can't believe this!" Charlie wiggled his fingers in Draco's face.

"Humour me, or I'll wrap you back up!" He had almost undone the bandage on the other hand. He ran through the same tests, and then leaned back.

"Good?"

"Kinda bummed I lost my callouses." Charlie grinned and touched Draco's face. "But, I do like the fact that there's no pain or blisters."

Charlie started undoing the bandages on his leg. "This is really incredible, Draco. Can we get enough of this for the staff here? What's in it?"

"I'd need to go get ingredients. Actually, I need to pick up a few books, too. Tomorrow the break should be healed enough for you to walk on it. Can we go to Diagon Alley?"

"Yes. I gotta get ice-cream for Ginny. Don't let me forget. " Charlie flung his legs over the side of the bed. "Hey-can you _repairo_ my shorts?"

Laughing, Draco shrugged into his shirt and reached for his wand before admonishing, "Don't put pressure on that leg, damnit! How many times do I have to tell you!"


	17. Running into Weasleys

I feel like I'm always apologizing for a late delivery on my chapters! I got on here to upload and got distracted with the story Surviving Fred and George by Phantomduck. If you haven't checked it out...you should. =) Thank you, so much, for the kind reviews! I welcome any and all feedback, story line suggestions, spelling/edit suggestions...Just knowing you're reading my story-even if you don't like it!-means a lot to me. If you DO like it, and you let me know, well, as Mark Twain said, "I can live on two months on a good complement!" =D

-

Charlie scribbled a few items down on a scrap of parchment while he waited for Draco to step out of the shower. Except for Draco's short night-terror episode, which seemed to occur every night without fail, Charlie had slept well. He had never before shared his bed consistently and he was finding that curling protectively around Draco resulted in restful slumber. Charlie read over his list:

Ice-cream

Eggs

Milk

Scarab Beetles

Renew Dragon Feed orders (More goats than last time!)

Order lumber and metal sheet for nursery repairs

Flour

Pumpkin Juice

Charlie opened the cabinet under the sink and shook the nearly empty bottle of Skowering solution. He decided to add that to the list as well.

Draco emerged from the bedroom, wearing a dress shirt and slacks. He was holding two ties and had a robe folded neatly over his arm. He placed the robe on the table and proffered the two ties. "Which one, do you think?"

Charlie set the quill down and crossed the kitchen to Draco. Draco held the black tie up to his neck, and then the emerald one. Charlie regarded Draco's ties seriously, one hand on his hip, and the other under his chin. Charlie was thinking to himself that he never once had dressed up to "go to town" and was wondering if he could even find his ties. He wondered if Draco was expecting him to get dressed up and how to broach that question. With a smile, he reached for the green tie, and looped it around Draco's neck. He pulled both ends, causing Draco to lean forward. Charlie took advantage of the movement to place his lips on Draco's forhead. "I like the green one." Charlie tied the knot expertly, much to Draco's surprise.

"I didn't think you knew how to do a double Windsor." Draco reached up to straighten the knot against his throat.

"I had to tie Percy's for the longest time. I need to stop by Magical Animal Feed and Supply Store, so I wasn't planning on getting dressed up—but, if you'd like to do lunch, like a real date, I can go change—if you want?" Charlie picked up Draco's robes and held it open while Draco shrugged into it.

"No, I, um….Well, see…" Draco fidgeted nervously with the clasp on his elegant black robes. "Please don't take this the wrong way. I'm just worried, you know, if word gets back to my mum that I'm with you."

Charlie instantly understood. "Ah. Okay." He smiled at Draco. "We're not together in public just yet?"

Draco shoved his hands into his pockets and looked down at his shined shoes and mumbled, "I want to be, but I just, I don't know if I can."

Using Draco's tie to pull him close again, Charlie put his chin on Draco's head. He could feel Draco's emotions, and identified with them. "Hey, it's okay, whatever you're comfortable with, I'm not asking or expecting anything for this little trip. I haven't figured out how to tell my mum either. Plus, I was kind of worried I was going to have to go put on dress clothes. And unfortunately, I don't have self-ironing robes." His smile was contagious, and Draco grinned back while trying to straighten his hair again.

"You do your shopping, and I'll do mine, and we can meet up somewhere. Maybe go get muggle food. Fish and chips, or Five Guys' Burgers and Fries, or whatever." Charlie reached for his Carhart jacket and slipped into his dragonskin boots.

"Okay. Want to meet at Zonko's?"

"No, can't, George would be so pissed." Charlie stood up and moved toward the fireplace. "How about Broomstix?"

Draco grinned. "Sure. I love that place. You never need an excuse to get Quidditch gear or broom polish!"

Draco hurried through the streets. Even though he knew it was probably just his imagination, he couldn't help but think everyone was staring at him. Once he even swore he heard someone had mutter "Murderer!" from a dark, shadowy doorway. He finally made it to Gringott's, and slipped through the massive doors as quietly as possible. Fortunately, the bank wasn't overly crowded. Large crowds of wizards still gave him a panicky feeling.

A severe goblin at the teller's desk motioned him forward. Draco proffered his wand for identification. After the goblin ascertained that it was Draco, he said, sternly, "Withdraws, or deposits, Master Malfoy?"

"Withdraw, from my regular checking account. I don't need to access the vault." Draco quickly affected his haughtiness from the days before the Great War.

"How much?" The goblin's voice was gravelly.

"I suppose 100 galleons will do, for today." Draco examined his nails, and sighed nonchalantly.

"100 galleons, from your personal checking, sign here." The goblin slid a receipt across the counter. Draco signed with his emerald ink, and the goblin handed him a small, heavy bag of coins.

As Draco headed back to the front doors of the bank he crossed the path of Bill Weasley. Shorter than Charlie, but just as broad in the shoulders, Bill was an imposing figure. It was not his size—which was impressive compared to the younger Weasley men—but it was the jagged scars across his face. Bill's sleeves were rolled up above his elbow, and Draco noticed he had scarring there, as well. Draco caught himself staring, fascinated with the scars and impressed with Bill's imposing nature. He just commanded attention—even the goblins moved out of his way or grew silent and watched as he strode through the building.

Bill was oblivious to the stir his presence caused. He felt Draco's eyes on him, and he turned to greet the Gringott's customer with a slight smile on his face-until he realized he was smiling at a Malfoy. Bill's features hardened with a scowl, and he nodded at Draco. "Master Malfoy. Did your mother think you'd have luck where she failed?"

Confused, Draco backed up and stammered, "I don't know what you're talking about, Mr. Weasley."

Bill made a noise somewhere between a grunt and a snort of derision. "Sure. The Malfoy funds are still _in situ _until your father has served his punishment to completion. And given the Malfoy family status, obviously your mother's request for a loan was denied."

Draco struggled to control his body's reaction to Bill's barbed comments, but still felt his face flush and that old familiar knot of anger twist in his stomach. "My father is released this week. I was not here about the family funds, in fact, what I'm doing here is none of your business!"

Bill stepped uncomfortably close to Draco, and growled, "As I'm the Managing Director on duty this week, it IS my business. So, if you're not here to beg for money like your mother this morning, what do you want?"

Draco resisted the urge to back away from Bill, and said in the most level tone he could manage, "I've concluded my business transactions, thank you."

Bill pursed his lips. "Gringott's thanks you for your business. Have a grand day, then, Master Malfoy." He turned on his heel and strode toward his office.

Draco was shaking with anger, and shame, and the sheer injustice of it all. Bill didn't need to take a stab at his mother like that. Draco was halfway down the street before he realized where he was. He'd passed Flourish and Blotts and was outside Weasley's Wizard Wheezes—and running into another angry Weasley was the last thing Draco wanted to experience. He decided against turning around and headed back toward Flourish and Blotts. They probably wouldn't carry the type of potion theory books he needed. Obscurus Books and Slug and Jigger's Apothocary were down here past the twin's joke shop. Draco headed into the apothecary. He ran his fingers through a large barrel of miniscule glittery black beetle eyes, as his eyes roamed the jars on the wall behind the counter. Silvery unicorn horns, and unicorn hair were in a glass display case. More barrels of dried roots and leaves and powders were arranged artfully in the far back corner. Draco nodded at the weathered witch behind the counter.

"What can I get for you, laddie?" She smiled welcomingly. Draco quickly rattled off the ingredients, and quantities he needed for making a large batch of burn healing ointment.

As the witch bustled around her shop, Draco leaned on the counter asked her advice on book recommendations. "I'm looking for some advanced theoretical potion studies for medical use. Do you have any suggestions? I've already examined Medical Mysteries from the Cauldron, and Baffling Bezoars, and Magical Mixtures, but there wasn't anything of great help."

"You read Magical Mixtures? All of it?" The witch looked up in surprise from the scale she was using to measuring the dried marigold blooms. "But that's an encyclopedia."

"Yes. I'm looking to actually create a salve that will prevent burns. Something that will let the wearer put his hands into flame, and not get burned."

The witch placed all the ingredients in a bag and asked Draco, "Why would you need something like that?" In response, Draco grinned and reached into his pockets.

"For this." He proffered the last Chinese Fireball Scale. It sat red and glistening in the palm of his hand. The light caught it, and the blood-red shimmered yellow and orange. The apocatherist's eyes widened in disbelief.

"May I?" She whipped her lorgnette out of her pocket, and held the handled spectacles up against her nose. She leaned over Draco's hand. After a minute, she lifted her gaze to meet Draco's.

"700 galleons." It was a credit to his Aunt Bellatrix's lessons in schooling his facial expressions that he didn't react with surprise. He couldn't control anger, and he had to get a jump-start on hiding fear, but most emotions he could easily conceal.

"I wasn't planning on selling it." Draco modulated his voice to express hesitancy, even though he had intended on selling the scale. But had not thought it would fetch that much since he wasn't a licensed dealer of dragon products. No wonder Potio was ecstatic.

"800 Galleons and all these items for free." The witch slid the bag down the counter toward Draco.

"Alright, I suppose…"

"Excellent. Also, I would check in Moste Potente Potions." The witch held up a finger, "Just a sec, dear, I've got to get your galleons from the safe. We don't keep that much here in the register."

"Alright. I've already examined Potente Potions. The potion doesn't exist, I'm going to have to invent it. This is why I need a theory book…" Draco's voice trailed off as the witch disappeared into the small office in the back of the shop.

She returned after a few seconds with a small, heavy bag filled with rolls of gold coins, which Draco promptly traded for the dragon scale. Draco slid them into the pocket of his robe and contemplated returning to Gringotts, or mailing the cash to his mother. Things must be really bad if she had resorted to requesting a loan.

Draco headed out of the store and immediately crossed the street to Obscurus Books. The shop was covered in stacks of old parchment and books, and a fine layer of dust. The books seemed to be arranged in no particular order, and Draco soon gave up looking for any title of interest. "Excuse me, could you recommend a potion theory book? An advanced theory book?"

The old bespectacled wizard nodded, but didn't speak. He bustled around the shop, grabbing tomes and rolls of parchment. He spread them on the counter, motioned for Draco to examine the selection. It was very helpful—Draco quickly separated "Theoretical Interactions In The Cauldron," and another by the same author, "Theoretical Interactions Out Of The Cauldron." A few books further in the stack he found "Mixing in Madness" and two rolls of parchment about fire and alchemy that weren't labled. While he was stacking up books for purchase, the wizard had headed back through his shelves for another round. He set another huge stack down, carefully. Sifting through the books, he handed a thin black notebook to Draco. He flipped it open and his eyes widened. He recognized Uncle Severus' spidery handwriting. He snapped it shut and looked seriously at the wizard.

"Do you have anything else by this author?" Draco immediately added that book to the stack he was going to buy. The spindly wizard shook his head in the negative. As an after thought, Draco asked, "What do you have about dragons?"

The wizard tugged on his light blue robes and thought for a second. Silently he disappeared behind a stack of precariously balanced books. After a few moments of rummaging around, he reappeared with a nondescript book bound in red. Draco opened it, excitedly, but instantly looked up with irritation. "It's in Chinese!"

The wizard reached out and tapped the book with his wand and spoke for the first time. _Reddo! _Below the script in small, fine print appeared in an English translation. The wizard shrugged, as if to say, "See? No big deal." Draco flipped through the pages, apparently it was a diary kept by an old Dragonist in China and Japan. This was definitely something Charlie would enjoy.

"This is perfect. Can you wrap it up for me? It's a gift." The wizard nodded, and spoke again. "Your total is 298 galleons and 12 sickles. And your uncle's book is free. Severus was a good man." He carefully wrapped the book for Charlie in brown paper and tied it with some twine. He bagged the rest of the books while Draco counted out the cash.

"Here's 300, even. I'm sure I'll be back. Thank you." Draco grabbed the bundle of books, and headed out into the bright sunlight. Juggling the packages of books and potion ingredients, Draco checked his watch. He had, roughly, a half-hour before Charlie was to meet him at Broomstix. He decided to head to Broomstix early—he might decide to get a new Tutshill Tornado jersey, or a Broomstick Maintenance Kit.

Draco would his way through the Quidditch and other sporting supplies, until he was standing in the clothing section. He found an awesome Vratsa Vulture jersey that looked like it would fit Charlie comfortably. He wasn't sure who his favorite player was, though, and while he bet on the seeker, he wasn't even sure who the Vulture's seeker was. Before he could put the jersey back on the rack, Goyle's voice caused Draco to freeze.

"What, since you can't play for Slytherin anymore, you're going to try for the Vultures?" Draco turned, slowly, hoping that Goyle was alone. Unfortunately, he was flanked by two fifth years that Draco barely recognized.

"Hello, Goyle." Draco tried to shift his packages around so he could grab his wand, but Goyle grabbed the bag of books out of his hand and tossed it to the scrawnier of his two lackies.

"See if there's anything in there of value."

Draco tried to grab for the bag. "Come on, it's just books. For school. Give it back, Goyle."

The other kid next to Goyle was pudgy and covered in acne. He mimicked Draco in a high pitched voice. "Give it back, Goyle! Give it baaaack!"

Draco glanced around the shop, hoping that the witch at the register would hear the disturbance and come investigate. Unfortunately, she was dealing with another customer and completely oblivious. Just when he thought the situation couldn't get any worse, he realized that Ginny Weasley and Harry Potter were examining the brooms a few feet behind Goyle.

Draco bit his tongue and waited for Goyle to decide how this interaction was going to end. Goyle turned to the kid with the books and said "Lionel, You can ruin his books, if you want. Confringo works well."

Panic flooded Draco. "Come on. Please, Goyle! Don't!" He lunged for the books, but Goyle was faster, and quickly subdued Draco with a choke hold, holding him bent over at the waist and tucked under Goyle's armpit. Draco's eyes started to water, but he still struggled against his former friend.

The scuffle was quickly paused when Ginny Weasley stepped into the fray. "Excuse me." Her voice was dangerously soft, like MacGonagal's when she was dealing with a truant student. Draco struggled to lift his head, but he couldn't see past the curtain of his blond hair and was stuck staring at Goyle's shoes.

Ginny poked her wand against the neck of the fifth year with his books and said "You are going to want to put those books down, and walk out of the store, immediately."

"Fuck you, bitch!" The kid pushed away from Ginny.

Harry Potter, who was leaning against the broomstick display, snorted. "That was a mistake."

Ginny turned to Goyle. "I'll forgive him, if you three leave, now."

Goyle shook his head, having seen Ginny in class. "C'mon, guys, let's go."

"I'm not letting some bitch tell me—"

"_Silencio!_ _Calvario! Densaugeo! Anteoculatia!" _Ginny's wand moved so quickly that Goyle released Draco and stumbled backward. Within seconds, Lionel was grabbing at his mouth, unable to make a noise. His front teeth were growing so large they were past his chin, his hair was gone, and instead, two antlers were growing rapidly above his ears.

Harry started laughing. "I told you, calling her a bitch was a mistake."

Ginny pointed the wand back at Goyle. "Now, are you leaving, or do I need to hit you with the entomorphis jinx?"

Goyle didn't say a word. He grabbed his two lackies and took off running. Ginny knelt and gathered the books that were laying haphazardly around the floor.

"Here." She handed them to Draco. He reached for the books dumbly. She smiled warmly at him, and turned back to Harry. Draco watched her for a moment, until he realized Harry was giving him a glaring look. Draco raised his hand in half greeting, half apology, and turned away to look for Charlie.

He headed to the front of the store, and saw Charlie walking up the cobblestone road. He darted outside and exchanged grins with Charlie. At this point he didn't really care if anyone saw him with Charlie.

Charlie reached for some of the packages Draco was holding. "Ready? Let's go home."

Draco handed over the bag of potion ingredients. "Your sister is inside."

"I ran into her earlier. She's shopping for stuff for dinner tonight—although, I doubt she'd find anything edible here. Let's drop this stuff off, and foray into the muggle world. You hungry?" Draco nodded and followed Charlie as he headed off to the nearest Floo.


	18. Five Guys and The Ex Girlfriend

Special thanks to Collette Nicole for her review =D

Sorry for the longish author's note:

If you want to get a laugh that is related to this chapter go to youtube and search "dayum, dayum, dayum." That is a review that one youtuber did for Five Guys specifically, and someone else entered into the Songify This contest. Both the review and the remix version are worth watching, especially if you have no idea what Five Guys is. (Hands down, my favorite Burger Place is In-N-Out, but they definitely don't have one of those in England. So I went with my next favorite place...and I've been all over the world and I can promise you this: no one does burgers like America.)

This is the most important part of the author's note, I'm sorry, I know the length is already completely out of control:

I realized today how many people have actually "followed" this story! Over 40! That's...incredible to me. I really want to sincerely thank you, so very much. The story has gotten tons of views, too, and this just blows my mind. Often I feel like I'm just writing and this story disappears into the ether of the internet and no one cares about it or even reads it. (Which, is cool, I'm writing the story for me anyway because I love Draco; he's such a tragic character. And I mean, come **on, **a Dragon Tamer and a man with the namesake of Dragon? It practically begs to be written.) I was recently challenged by the author Beside Moonlight to join the Review Revolution and to leave a review for every story I read, no matter how bad, old, forgotten etc. the story is. That's been rough because I don't like leaving bad reviews: I feel like a complete jerk when I have nothing nice to say and I say it anyway...BUT, for you, my dear readers, if you have something mean to say, that's okay! I get stupidly excited, like, dancing on the table excited, when someone leaves a review for me. Even if it is criticism-it's still better than no reviews. I mean, I never would have noticed how many different variations of spelling McGonagall I had attempted if a kind reader hadn't left a review...Now that I'm done thanking ya'll for your feedback, enjoy! (seriously, marking my story as "favorite" or "following" my story-it just blew my mind how many of ya'll have done that, and I really thank you for it. That's such an encouragement for me to keep writing.)

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After stumbling through the Floo, Charlie tossed a folder of papers and receipts onto the dining room table, and set his bags in a chair. Draco set his stack of books on the table, too, and took the potion ingredients to his trunk. While he was gone, Charlie rifled through his bags so he could change his shirt to a nicer, collared one that he had bought under Ginny's advice. It was a nice dark gray, and according to Ginny, made his hair bright. _Whatever that meant._ Charlie thought amusedly.

Draco emerged while Charlie was buttoning his shirt. He walked up shyly to Charlie, and reached to do the last few buttons. "I like this shirt. It complements your hair."

Charlie laughed. "What, what did I say?" Draco reached up to straighten Charlie's collar.

"Nothing, I'm not laughing at you." Charlie leaned down to kiss Draco. He could hardly believe that having Draco around was real, and not something he was imagining. He half expected Draco to come to his senses and decide that hanging Charlie was simply not working.

"So, um, this place, Five Guys, it's a really relaxed restaurant in the Muggle world."

Draco looked down at his clothes. "Do I need to change?"

"Nah, just leave the robe. And maybe the tie. We're going to be overdressed either way. We'll look like muggle businessmen at lunch. Have you been in the Muggle world before?" Charlie folded his Muggle money into his back pocket.

"No." Draco shook his head.

"Oh. Um. You want to go? We can do something else, if you aren't comfortable with it." Charlie thought about how new and overwhelming everything was when he first ventured into the Muggle world.

"No, I want to go."

"Okay. Good, cause they have the most amazing bacon-cheese burgers." Charlie entwined his fingers with Draco's and explained their travel route to calm him. "We're gonna use the Floo Network to Platform 9 ¾, then take the Muggle tube from King's Cross Station to Covent. It's just a short block away from Covent station. We should only be on the tube for about 10 minutes. So, it isn't far."

Draco felt relieved to know that Charlie had a plan, and that he was comfortable in the Muggle world. The way he spoke made it seem like it was nothing extraordinary. "See you at Platform 9 ¾." Draco grinned, and with a flash of green light, disappeared through the fireplace. Charlie quickly followed.

They crossed the barrier into King's Cross. Charlie went first, and almost stumbled over a little kid running around with a balloon. His mother, red-faced and looking exhausted, hurriedly snatched the shrieking toddler and apologized. Draco silently appeared behind Charlie, and leaned against the now-solid arch nonchalantly. After assuring the mother that he was quite all right and taking a few seconds to tease the kid into a smile, Charlie made eye-contact with Draco, who was trying unsuccessfully to suppress a grin. "Poor woman didn't even know she was barking up the wrong tree."

"What?" Charlie blinked at Draco in confusion.

"You had her all flustered, and she thought you are extremely good-looking. Which, is true, I might add. She was single, too." Draco lengthened his stride to keep even with Charlie as they moved through the station.

"What?" Charlie repeated himself. "How can you know that?"

Draco shook his head, unwilling to discuss his skills at legitimancy. He felt that using legitimancy to see inside Charlie's thoughts was intrusive, wrong somehow, but with a Muggle—that didn't matter. He finally said, "You can't be that oblivious?"

"I guess so. Girls have always confused me, except for Ginny. But that's cause all us brothers taught her to act like a guy, I guess. Not that we tried to do it intentionally, but…" Charlie's voice drifted off as he threaded his way up the stairs and stood away from the crowd waiting for the tube's arrival.

"There's only one girl I understand, really. Actually, she's my best friend." Draco commented offhandedly.

Charlie raised his eyebrows and asked teasingly, "Wait a minute—she's the one you gave your virginity to, isn't it?"

Draco hrmphed to cover his embarrassment, and crossed his arms defensively. After a second, he conceded, "Yeah. Pansy Parkinson. Pans and I were prefects a few years ago. She's a lot like me. Almost exactly like me, I suppose. She's got a sadistic tongue. Worse than me." Draco acknowledged his viciousness. Charlie smiled, remembering how quickly he'd managed to insult his entire family the first day they'd met at Mungo's.

Draco continued, "You know, I say mean things because they're funny, or because I'm being spiteful. But Pans, she can watch a person and see their fault-lines, like little spiderweb cracks in glass. She knows just what to say, like a little tap, that'll make everything come crashing down around you." Draco looked at Charlie to see if he understood.

"I don't know how to explain it any better. Okay, I have an example. You know Angelina Johnson?"

Charlie nodded. "She and Katie help George with the shop."

"Okay, well, you know how we don't have many minorities at Hogwarts? Well, Johnson was the only black girl in our year. She spent a long time doing her hair up in this elaborate, what do you call it, cornrows? I thought it was kind of pretty. But Pans, she knew how sensitive Johnson was about being black, because she felt different, like she always stuck out. So, she poked that one issue with the cruelest little sentence. Pans said to her, 'Why would you want to look like you've got worms crawling out of your head?' and you know, I never saw Johnson wear her hair like that again." Draco shoved his hands into his pockets, a little embarrassed about Pansy.

The metro pulled up spat out the passengers. Draco and Charlie stepped into the nearly empty car and grabbed a seat. "Mind the gap! Mind the gap!" Draco looked around, startled, and Charlie laughed.

"Muggle inventions. Here." He pointed at a small speaker box over the door. "They don't want anyone tripping over the gap between the platform and the metro." He pointed at the ground near the door.

"Damn. They really have thought of everything." Draco watched the marquee change to announce the next stop. "You're sure that's not magic?" He tilted his chin toward the sign over the door.

"Nah. Dunno how it works exactly, and I reckon most Muggles don't either, but it sure ain't magic. Anyway, what were you saying about Pansy?"

"Most people can't see what others keep hidden, and if they can, they aren't able to put it into words, exactly. But Pans sees deep down to what you are most ashamed of, or proud of, whatever your fault-line is, and she's able to vocalize it. When the Malfoy family fell from fame and fortune, she was able to look inside herself and vocalize what she saw: she was only dating me for the status my family held." Draco gave a mirthless laugh and leaned his head against the window. "That kind of stung, a little, until she said the same thing about me. That I was only dating her because dating a girl was expected of me. That it was a bonus that she was a pureblood and a Slytherin, too."

Charlie smiled at Draco's face as he remembered that confrontation. "She never mentioned that she knew you were gay, before that? She didn't talk about breaking up with you because of it?"

"Nah. Our relationship was one of convenience and social responsibility. We got along great and we gave each other the social status we wanted. No obligations to the other, just what we could get out of it for ourselves."

Charlie stood up and held the strap hanging from the ceiling. "This is our stop coming up, here." He looked at Draco, "Well, thanks for explaining your relationship. Being with a guy is different than with a girl, and it worried me that..." Charlie struggled to find the right word.

Draco laughed and supplied "I'm inexperienced?"

Charlie grinned back and swayed a little as the metro slowed down. "You being inexperienced doesn't bother me. I'm just concerned that you might decide that this isn't what you want…"

Draco's brow creased as he tried to understand what Charlie was saying. He finally just shrugged and stood as the tube stopped. "Mind the gap! Mind the gap!" Draco mimicked the lady's voice and stepped into the station. Lengthening his stride to catch up to Charlie, he asked "This place is close, right? I'm famished."

"Yeah, it's close. Just a block away." Charlie blinked as they stepped into the sunlight. Draco glanced around him, curiously taking in the cars that were moving quickly down the road.

After a few moments Draco asked, "Is that it? The red-bricked building?"

"Yup. That's the one. With the American flag. They sure know their fast-food burgers, America does." Draco followed Charlie inside, and got in the queue. He resisted asking how they prepared the food, if they couldn't do magic. Charlie stepped to the side and angled his body so that Draco could stand next to him.

"I recommend the Bacon Cheese Burger. And Cajun chips. Oh Goddrick, they're so good, with some ketchup! They use a whole potato and they send it through this masher thing….look." Charlie leaned to see past the cashier, and pointed at a young Muggle placing a whole potato in a steel contraption. When he shoved the lever forward, the potato was mashed through a mesh screen and came out as chips.

While Draco stood on tip-toes to see, Charlie returned his attention to the menu and mused aloud, "Yeah, the Double Bacon Cheese Burger…except for the tomatoes and mustard, everything else. That's what I'm getting. What about you?"

Draco ran his finger across the red and white checked pattern on the wall absent-mindedly and glanced at the menu. "Um, the same, I guess, except I like mustard and I don't like pickles."

He returned his attention to the back of the shop, where he could see the diced potatoes being dunked into some other contraption. Charlie commentated, "Boiling peanut oil to cook the fries."

Charlie stepped up to the cashier and placed their orders. They collected their plain paper bags of food and headed to a booth. Charlie made a detour to stock up on napkins and ketchup. After sitting down, Charlie stuck his nose in the bag and inhaled deeply. "Damn. So good."

Draco lifted a chip and examined it, before popping it into his mouth. "Whoa."

Charlie was busy unwrapping the aluminium foil on his burger, and nodded agreement. "Yup."

After a few minutes of silent, satisfied eating, Draco ventured, "So, um, did you tell your sister about me?"

Charlie swallowed his mouthful of burger and grabbed for his coke. He shook his head no, while slurping through the straw. "Nope, I haven't. Why?"

"She just, nothing. Nevermind." Draco wasn't willing to share the incident in Broomstix with Charlie.

"Are you nervous about meeting her?" Charlie grinned impishly and took another bite of his burger.

Draco didn't answer immediately, instead he deliberately dipped a Cajun seasoned chip into the ketchup and popped it into his mouth. He managed to keep his expression unperturbed, at first. He couldn't help himself from grinning back at Charlie, though, and by the third fry he was smiling.

"Yeah. I was positive she hated me, but now I'm not sure. She's important to you, so I really don't want to screw that up." Draco stabbed another chip into the ketchup. "And," he brandished the chip at Charlie, "I feel like it'll show us what it'll be like when you introduce me to the rest of your family, so there's added pressure for it to go well." Draco ate the chip and folded his hands on the edge of the table.

Charlie grew thoughtful. "I understand those concerns. But, Draco, you and my sister don't have any bearing on my relationship with the other."

Draco polished off the last of his burger, and shrugged. He started folding the foil wrapper into a triangle. "That was really good. I want to take a nap, now."

Charlie grabbed a few chips, and nodded in agreement. "Yeah, let's go back." He bussed their tray, and met Draco at the door. In short order they had retraced their steps and were walking through the Floo into Charlie's living room.


	19. Hugs or Hexes?

Author's note: Okay, all ya'll! I have rewritten this scene about fifteen times. I just couldn't get the reactions of everyone in this chapter right. I think I finally got it, though. That's the real reason this chapter is late, my blasted writer's block.

Titian, adj, "tish uhn," reddish, or reddish blonde hair.  
Biscuits vs. Cookies: Brits use both, generally biscuits are store bought and crunch, like oreos. Cookies are actual home-made, round, chewy, chocolate chip filled cookies. At least, that is my understanding. It's been a while since I've been to England. (I had the hardest time writing "fries" as "chips" in the last chapter)  
I realize that Peru doesn't generally have a siesta like Spain does, but c'mon. If the Peruvian Dragon Reserve wants to nap in the middle of the day, they can. I wish we had siestas here...I might go take one once I publish this, actually...

Lastly: I realized today that, while I have certain wickets that I want to hit in this story, I don't really have a definite end in mind. So this might turn into one of those stories that I just add onto and it will continue indefinitely. If that's a problem...let me know. I keep telling myself that I'll work on my Holyhead Harpy story (because I do have a clear plot line for that, even though it started as an accidental one shot). Or, I tell myself that I'll finally start fleshing out any of the other drafts/plot lines I have going on so I can publish them here...but every time I sit down to write I just keep getting sucked into my Draco and Charlie story. I just felt that, since I'm 19 chapters in and showing no signs of slowing I should let ya'll know that you might want to get strapped in for a very long ride...Sorry.

Anyway, as always, thank you for reading my story, and being kind enough to leave reviews =) It blew my mind when I had TWO new reviews this week. *happy dance!*

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"Oh, Merlin's socks, I ate so much." Charlie sprawled out on the couch. "There's a dragon reserve in Peru, and we did an exchange with a few of their Dragon Tamers. They couldn't believe we didn't have a siesta. Meals like that make me think it's a great idea."

Draco sat down on the armrest. "A siesta?"

"Yeah, like, an after-lunch nap. Apparently the whole reserve just shuts down for a few hours." Charlie slumped even further into the couch and rested his hands on his stomach, fingers interlaced.

"I said I could go for a nap!" Draco laughed.

"Well, let's take one." Charlie struggled to his feet.

"When is your sister arriving?" Draco thought that maybe a nap wasn't such a great idea. What if Ginny arrived while they were sleeping?

"I dunno. I'll ask." Charlie flicked his wand and the shimmering light from the patronus appeared. "Yo! Ginnybinny! What time you coming over?" After Charlie spoke it swirled through the window and was gone.

Charlie pulled Draco onto the couch. "What's wrong? You're all tense."

"Yeah! I'm worried about this! I don't think Ginny-I just, you don't understand." Draco felt himself growing frustrated at Charlie.

"Whoa. Whoa. Hey. Talk to me." Charlie cupped Draco's face in his hands.

Draco tried to shake his head, not wanting to have this same conversation again. "Your callouses are gone." Draco observed wryly, as he wrapped his hands around Charlie's wrists and pulled his hands away from his face.

Charlie decided to not press the issue. Instead, he leaned in and kissed Draco on the forehead. "Can I rub your back?"

Draco nodded, feeling miserable from the stress that the entire situation was causing him. Charlie pulled Draco near and started rubbing his shoulders and neck. "Wow, Draco, you've got a huge knot in your neck, right here." Draco winced as Charlie applied gentle pressure. Before he could say anything, one of Ginny's silvery patronuses came galloping through the living room.

"Charles Septimus Weasley, I **hate** it when you call me that. The pizza dough takes 30 minutes to make, needs at least 30 minutes to rise, and another 30 to bake, so at least an hour and a half before you want to eat is when we need to start cooking. I can come earlier, just tell me when." Charlie smiled because he imagined Ginny counting the time by ticking each segment off on her fingers.

Draco tried valiantly to suppress the smile that fought its way across his lips. "Septimus?"

"Shut up." Charlie glared at Draco. "Grandpa was the seventh son of a seventh son, so yeah, Septimus."

Draco started laughing, "Septimus!"

Charlie glared for a second, then flicked his wand. When the silvery light appeared, Charlie said, "You know I hate my middle name. That was below the belt. Come on over now."

As the patronus disappeared, Draco pulled away from Charlie and exclaimed, "Right now?!" He was a little embarrassed how high a note his voice hit.

Charlie pulled Draco back and continued massaging his shoulders. "Why not, you're getting all stressed out for no reason. It'll be like ripping off a band-aid. The longer you stress about it, the worse it's going to seem."

"I hate you, Charles Septimus Weasley." Draco crossed his arms.

Laughing, Charlie started tickling Draco's hips. "You're not allowed to call me that!"

Squirming and struggling, Draco finally managed to escape Charlie's grip—by sliding onto the floor. He stood up and straightened his shirt. "I don't like my middle name, either. Truce?"

"Lucius? That's a solid wizarding name. Sit down and let me work on your neck." Charlie reached for Draco and resettled themselves on the couch.

Charlie tugged up on Draco's shirt. "No! I'm not going to be half-dressed and have your sister walk in!" Draco hurriedly shoved his shirt-tail back into his pants.

"Oh, fine. I like touching your pale skin, though." Charlie grinned at the blush that spread up Draco's ears. "So why don't you like your middle name? I mean, Septimus doesn't make any sense since I'm the second child, and it sounds stupid."

"Lucius is a solid name, I guess, but it's my father's name." Draco flinched as Charlie hit the knot with his thumb.

"Merlin's socks, Draco, what'd you do? Did you sleep on your neck wrong or something?" Charlie repeated his question from earlier.

"You can ask Ginny when she gets here. She saw the whole thing and stopped it from getting worse." Draco spoke crossly.

"So, you did injure yourself." Charlie nodded, knowing that Draco had made a huge concession by acknowledging Ginny's arrival without complaining directly.

"I was injured, there's a difference." Draco tucked his knees up under his chin. Before he could say anything else, Ginny's reply pranced around in front of the couch.

"Aww! Char! I'll be over as soon as I'm done helping Mum in the garden, twenty minutes tops. The gnomes were staging a revolution. Floo or will you unlock the wards for me to apparate? I'll be bringing my broom and exploding snap. Mum wants to know if you need anything?" Draco started laughing because Mrs. Weasley's voice could be heard in the background, "Find out if he needs me to send over some food, the boy never eats enough. And tell him that I look forward to meeting this new mysterious boyfriend, that was such a sweet note, the dear…."

"Wow. Mom acknowledged I am dating another guy. That's huge progress for her." Charlie reached for his wand.

"Doesn't she know she taught you how to cook?" Draco smiled at the concerned tone in Molly's background chatter. "Mum would never sound that concerned for me."

Charlie kissed the back of Draco's neck. "That's entirely not true."

He took a second to respond to his sister, "Floo, Ginny, it's too much work to take the wards down. If Mum has any biscuits, grab those."

After the light from Charlie's patronus disappeared, Draco spoke softly. "If she's upset about me being here, I'll return to Hogwarts until you message me to come back."

Charlie resisted the urge to shake Draco and instead wrapped his arms around him. Draco bit his lip and leaned back into Charlie's comforting chest. It seemed only a few seconds had passed, but the changing colors of the Floo caused both Charlie and Draco to jump, and shift so that they were no longer touching each other—like guilty schoolkids.

Ginny walked through the Floo and flicked her wand to clean the dust and soot off herself. She tucked it into her sleeve, and then smiled at her brother. Both Charlie and Draco stood—Draco because his parents had drilled into him manners, which included standing when a lady enters the room. Charlie stood because he went to hug his sister. Her bright brown eyes sparkled with her smile, and her titian red hair gleamed in the light of the fire. She bounded into Charlie's arms and pecked a kiss on his cheek.

"Hello, Char." She turned and the only indication of surprise she gave at the sight of Draco was a slight widening of her eyes. She released her brother and stepped in front of Draco, who had his hands clasped behind his back.

"Hello, Draco." Ginny hid her shock at seeing the pale blonde in her brother's living room by smiling welcomingly at him. Draco struggled with the urge to use legilimancy to see what thoughts were running through Ginny's head. She could out-duel any student at Hogwarts. He was a little concerned that she'd grab her wand and, while he wasn't sure what spells and hexes she had in her arsenal, he was sure it would be painful and embarrassing. The memory of Goyle's lacky sprouting antlers in Broomstix was quite fresh. Draco remained frozen for a second longer, his eyes darting over her face, as if he stared long enough he'd see her real motives.

She put a hand on his shoulder and leaned in, causing Draco to stiffen warily. She drew back and said softly, "A hug is how I greet all my brothers. The Weasleys are a touch-feely, huggy sort of family. I suppose I'll wait until you're ready for that." She let her hand slide off his shoulder, and only then did Draco unclasp his hands.

"Ginny." She turned to look at her brother, with eyebrows raised. "What?"

"Give Draco some breathing room." Charlie wanted to touch Draco, hold his hand, rub his back—something, anything, to give him a small amount of reassurance. He could see that Ginny was completely overwhelming him, and since he hadn't been able to hear what Ginny had whispered to Draco, Charlie was quite worried. "Ginny…you're, you know, cool, with Draco?"

Ginny laughed. "Yes, Char. You realize that I'm the sole Weasley who's been supportive of you from day one, right?" She set her backpack down on the coffee table. "Why would that change just because your boyfriend is…well…" Her voice trailed off as she rummaged through the bag..

"You can say it." Draco spoke softly, trying to suppress a frown.

Ginny looked up from her bag and responded to Draco. "Say what?"

"Death eater. Murderer. Traitor. Whatever you were going to say." Draco supplied the list sadly.

"Oh, uh, I was actually going to say 'a Slytherin,' but those work too, " Ginny winked mischievously as she fell into teasing him as if he were any of her brothers. "Mum sent cookies, you know, with chocolate chips! Also, some brownies, and uh, a note for you, Draco." She continued shuffling through the contents of her backpack until she retrieved the neatly folded parchment. She shoved the note at Draco. "It's just a thank you note from Mum, and full of the 'I hope you'll be accepting of us and we're sorry we were so rough on Charlie but him being gay caught us by surprise and we didn't mean to not be supportive of him or him and you, we're just working through it, for instance I'm having a hard time letting go of the idea of grandkids, but I'm glad to have another son' type stuff.'"

"Did you just quote the note?" Charlie made a grab for the note but Ginny was faster, and managed to tuck it into Draco's robe pocket.

"Pretty much." Ginny rolled her eyes.

Charlie tried to reach around her for the note, and muttered, "Why is mom worried about grandkids? Bill's already on that."

Ginny snickered, and added, "I know! Have you seen Fleur? I mean, how could you not, she's the size of a house!" Draco's eyes widened, as if he couldn't believe Ginny was mocking her pregnant sister-in-law. Charlie laughed, remembering how long it took Ginny to warm up to Bill's bride.

Charlie kept trying to reach around Ginny to grab the note from Draco. Ginny futilely pushed against Charlie's chest. "Back off, already. _Merlin._"

Ginny rolled her eyes at Charlie, and then turned toward the blonde young man. "So, Dray, I expect eye-contact and maybe a nod or a smile when we're in the halls at Hogwarts." Ginny tucked a rogue strand of beautiful red hair behind her ear and smiled reassuringly at Draco once more. Draco nodded, still unsure of Ginny, who continued, "I mean, you don't have to be nice to Ron, you know, but I'd appreciate a little hello once in a while."

Charlie pulled his sister into a bear hug and grinned at Draco over her head. He silently mouthed the words, "I told you so!" at Draco, and then winked. His expression caused Draco to finally smile.

"Grrrohhoof!" Ginny struggled against her older brother. Despite her athletic strength from Quidditch, she was no match for Charlie. He held her firmly against his broad chest.

"Charles!" Ginny yelped as Charlie picked her up and tossed her onto the couch. She struggled to her feet and was about to pounce on Charlie when she realized he was completely absorbed with Draco.

Charlie had moved toward Draco and ran his thumb across Draco's cheek. "What are you thinking?" Ginny quieted, watching how her brother and Draco focused so intently on each other.

"I'm thinking that your sister is right…Weasleys are a touchy-feely lot. Before that day in the locker room…" Draco's voice trailed to a whisper. "I don't remember the last time someone touched me. Other than one of the house-elves." Draco huffed out a breath and let his gaze wander and swallowed past the lump in his throat. "It's just nice. That's all. It surprised the shit out of me that Ginny would have hugged me."

Charlie couldn't help himself, he wrapped Draco into a bear hug. Ginny quietly grabbed her bag and headed into the kitchen. She knew when to give her brothers space—although, she thought with an internal eye-roll, the same couldn't be said about them when it came to her getting some alone time with Harry.


	20. Love, Loneliness, and Legilimency

Author's Note: Whooooo Chapter 20, ya'll! I can't believe ya'll are still with me! Thank you =D

Because of a PM that made me laugh when *someone* said that my author notes are "educational," I will try to live up to expectations: The song Charlie and Ginny sing is an old Amish song called Simple Gifts; it's on youtube if you want to hear the melody…I particularly like the version done by Yo-Yo Ma and Alison Krauss, even though they only do one of the verses. There are about 80 billion verses, but this one seemed highly appropriate.

This chapter was somewhat inspired by my best friend's relationship with her older brother. I wish all siblings got along like that. Heck, I wish I had an older brother to get along with like that.

Also, I'm dedicating this chapter to whirlwind29, who asked me to update sooner. I tried my best, and since I don't normally update until the weekend, and it's only Wednesday…. =D Amazing what a few kind words will do to my motivation level! While my beta was reviewing this, I discovered that Melanie also left a review asking for the same thing. You two rock!

As always, I love you, my faithful readers. Thanks for putting up with me.

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Ginny moved through Charlie's kitchen with ease. Ever since his reassignment to the Dragon Reserve in northern Wales, Ginny had developed a weekly ritual of cooking at least one meal with her favorite brother. She occasionally stayed over, when she fell asleep on the couch during their late fireside chats. Charlie was her protector, her confidant, and she was one of the few constant companions in his secluded life. She took out several bowls and began measuring ingredients into each one. After a few minutes she called out, "Hey, Char? Can I borrow Draco for some help?"

Draco stiffened in Charlie's arms. "Go ahead. She's not gonna hex you. She just wants to get to know you." Charlie kissed Draco's forehead gently, and pushed Draco toward the kitchen. Draco took a deep breath and walked into the kitchen. His eyes widened at the transformation Charlie's little kitchen had undergone in the few minutes. Ginny had certainly made herself comfortable. Draco was still unsure how to interact with Ginny. Years of animosity between Harry Potter and Ron Weasley made him feel awkward around Ginny. Her boyfriend and at least two of her brothers did not like him very much and he was certain that colored her opinion of him.

With another deep breath, and a few minutes of occulmancy to establish his shields in efforts to steady his nerves, Draco stepped into kitchen. "Yes?" He said softly.

"Oh, good, you're here. Hey, okay, I need you to take that bowl of warm water and dump the yeast packet into it." Ginny motioned to the far counter with her elbow. She had a large knife in one hand and was slicing peppers.

"Char!" Ginny yelled for her brother.

"What!" Charlie didn't move from the couch. Draco smiled, realizing this was probably a regular interaction between the two of them.

"I want some music!" Ginny yelled as she scooped the peppers into another bowl. Draco was beginning to wonder if Charlie had enough bowls to withstand Ginny's cooking.

"Okay, yeast is added." He raised his eyebrows to question what he was supposed to do now.

"Take off your ring. Add those four bowls, the ones there: the eggs—" Draco pointed and interrupted, "these?"

"Yeah! Those ones." Ginny went back to chopping.

"Why do I need to take off my ring?" Draco slipped his Malfoy signet ring into his pocket.

"You've never kneaded dough?" Ginny asked with a tone of surprise. "Just a sec, let me yell at Char." Ginny stuck her head out of the kitchen, "No pizza for you, if you don't play me some music!"

"You're such a little witch!" Charlie sighed and rolled off the couch. He made his way to his guitar and picked up a notebook filled with his songs and scribbles.

Ginny grinned, victorious, as Charlie began strumming and tuning his instrument. She headed back into the kitchen. Rolling up her sleeves she nudged Draco aside. "Here, add the eggs and about a third of the flour. I'll stir."

After he did, Ginny plunged her hands into the bowl. "Whoa, whoa, what are you doing!" Draco looked at her in shock.

"Kneading! It's all mixed, so add s'more flour and the bowl with the pinch of salt and sugar and stuff." Ginny pointed with her chin. She waited until Draco had added all the ingredients and began mixing the sticky dough together. "You have to add the salt and stuff with the flour, otherwise you might get a pocket of salt that isn't mixed in very well. And biting into a little nugget of salt ruins the pizza."

Draco felt a small smile starting. "You speak from experience?"

Ginny grinned, "Yeah, there's a reason most of my brothers aren't allowed in the kitchen without supervision."

Draco felt an urge to defend Charlie. "Charlie's cooking is great."

"Yeah, he was the only one patient enough to deal with Mum in the kitchen until I came along. Well, I'm not patient. Just, Mum is always saying cooking is a skill every woman should know, especially if she's going to keep a man happy. She forced domestic-ness down my throat." Ginny pulled her hands from the bowl and waited for Draco to add more flour.

Ginny scraped most of the sticky dough off her hands and flicked it back into the bowl. "Here, finish mixing the last of the flour in while I set up the table for you to knead it. The dough should stop being sticky and be more like…well, dough." Ginny grabbed the bag of flour and Draco smiled as he heard her telling Charlie to move to the other end of the table. He realized that the last of the flour really did make a huge difference in the dough, and it was no longer sticky. It sat in the bottom of the bowl in a neat little lump.

"Dray, dump the dough onto the flour I spread on the table." Ginny began gathering the cutting board and vegetables and a few more bowls together. She followed Draco to the dining table. Charlie sat sprawled out at the other end of the table, his ankles crossed and propped up on another chair. He was strumming a little nonsense tune on the guitar.

"Okay, Ginnybinny, what do you want me to play?" He asked as he watched his sister start slicing the mushrooms.

"The gift song." Charlie smiled and began strumming. Ginny set the knife down and stood beside Draco. They were nearly the same size, Charlie noted with a smile. She reached over and began kneading the dough. "It's in your wrists, like this." Draco watched solemnly. She moved out of the way and watched him try a few times. "Yup, like that. Just a sec, I'm gonna brown the sausage meat." She darted into the kitchen and left Draco alone.

He shot Charlie a guarded look, and said, "Cooking is NOT like potions," which made Charlie laugh.

Charlie started humming softly, then after a minute, singing. Ginny joined in almost immediately, her voice drifting from the kitchen harmonized perfectly with her brother. The words were old, his mother, and grandmother, used to sing them to the Weasely kids when they were children.

"'Tis a gift to be loved and that love to return,  
'Tis a gift to be taught and a richer gift to learn,  
And when we expect of others what we try to live each day,  
Then we'll all live together and we'll all learn to say:  
When true simplicity is gain'd,  
To bow and to bend we shan't be asham'd,  
To turn, turn will be our delight,  
Till by turning, turning we come 'round right."

Ginny danced out of the kitchen after a few seconds of singing and returned to her vegetable slicing. When she and Charlie sang the words "turn" and "turning" she did a little twirl and giggled.

Draco stopped kneading the dough shortly after they started singing. He swallowed deeply and took a few deep breaths. Charlie immediately noticed that something was wrong, but before he could say anything, Draco stumbled away from the table. Ginny shot an astonished look at Charlie. When they heard the front door open and thud shut Charlie set the guitar down and darted after Draco.

Charlie skidded to a stop at the end of the porch. He glanced around his front yard and didn't immediately see Draco. He felt a knot of fear start to form in his stomach and forced himself to look around again, but this time slowly. He finally spotted Draco leaning against a clump of trees, his face buried in the crook of his elbow. Charlie walked slowly toward Draco, not wanting to startle him. He reached out and touched Draco's shoulder. He shook under Charlie's hand, and it wasn't until Draco turned around that Charlie realized he was crying, silent tears sliding down his cheeks.

"Draco, Draco—" Charlie pulled him close. "What happened?"

Draco struggled to regain his self control—he hated crying, and hated for anyone to see him crying even more. His shoulders slumped as he relaxed into Charlie's embrace.

Charlie stifled the urge to question Draco until he explained what upset him. After Draco calmed down, he pulled away from Charlie and wrapped himself in haughtiness from years past. "My apologies."

Charlie wasn't upset by the tone in Draco's voice. He recognized it as one of his self-defense mechanisms. Charlie wiped the tear-tracks on Draco's cheek with his thumb. "C'mon. Let's go back inside. Maybe later you can tell me what happened." Charlie knew that pushing the issue now would only upset Draco further.

Draco grabbed Charlie's hand and stopped him. "Have you ever studied Legilimency?" Draco spoke softly, without meeting Charlie's eyes.

"No. Seeing into someone's mind?" Charlie was continually amazed at how smart Draco was, despite the big gap in their age.

"Yeah. Kind of. You can also welcome someone into your mind. Let them see what you're seeing. I've only done it once, though." Draco leaned back so that he could make eye contact with Charlie.

"Here. Breathe deeply with me, match me breath for breath. Empty your mind." Draco placed his palm against Charlie's temple. Uncle Sev had told him physical contact wasn't necessary but it helped him focus his thoughts. Draco normally didn't need to utter the incantation, but since he was about to do more than sift through Charlie's thoughts—he was going to share his own—he pointed his wand at Charlie's other temple. _Legilimens. _Draco muttered the incantation softly, and dropped his hand with the wand to his side.

Draco felt Charlie's mind, blank, and waiting, and he struggled to focus his thoughts and only allow Charlie to see the exact memories and thoughts that he was willing to offer. Charlie felt, rather than saw, the moment of happiness that he and Ginny shared in the kitchen. He smiled again at the image of his sister dancing in joy. Charlie was stunned when, like a door had slammed shut in his face, Charlie felt cut-off from the joy and contentment that he had shared with Ginny: that happiness would never be his. It took Charlie a second to realize that he was feeling what Draco felt: it was as if no matter how hard he tried, he'd always be on the outside looking in. The shift from happiness to loneliness and anguish was so sudden and so severe that Charlie gasped, choking.

Like a weird water-mark, Charlie saw Draco's face scrunch up in concentration over the image of Ginny singing and twirling around his kitchen. Suddenly the picture shifted, and Charlie felt himself plunge deeper into Draco's memories. He was sitting at a large table, Narcissa and Lucius at opposite ends. Charlie struggled with the realization that he was small-no, this was Draco's memory. He was so small his feet didn't touch the ground. Charlie struggled against the feelings that overwhelmed him, loneliness, despair, pain. Charlie heard Draco's voice echo weirdly in his head, "Charlie, this is my memory, you're only feeling what I felt, just let it roll over you, don't fight me."

Charlie matched his breathing with Draco's and tried to remain neutral. Charlie glanced around the table and even though he was sharing the evening meal with his family, he was isolated. Alone. Rejected. Unloved. Charlie felt a shock of realization as he realized there was a word for this constant ache. Loneliness—_no, _Charlie reminded himself, _this is what Draco felt, this is the first time Draco realized there was a word for this interminable feeling_—it was loneliness. Charlie tried not to fight the memory but hearing Draco's thoughts as his own was unnerving. He wanted to talk to his father about Hogwarts, but Lucius ignored him. He had been certain that Lucius would be proud of him for being chosen for Slytherin. There were so many wonderful stories that he wanted to share with his father. Surely things might change if only Lucius knew how hard he worked this past year, he tried so hard to make Lucius proud. Charlie opened his mouth to ask a question, but Lucius stopped him—_no, Lucius was speaking to Draco, not me, _Charlie thought fleetingly_—_with a curt, "silence, son, or I will remind you of your place." Charlie swallowed, feeling rejection from Lucius. It burned. He turned to Narcissa, who held her hand up and shook her head gently. Charlie knew, through Draco's memory, that to continue to speak would make Lucius lose his temper. Charlie stared at his plate, and felt tears start to fall from Draco's eyes. With a start he realized Draco was ending the legilimency connection. The memory grew soft around the edges and Charlie blinked because seeing the Draco standing before him overlaying the images of the memory was just too strange. His brain struggled to accept what he was seeing, feeling.

Draco dropped his hand from Charlie's temple. Charlie stumbled for a second as the connection broke. He hadn't realized how heavily he'd been leaning into Draco's hand. Charlie looked at the blonde young man in front of him. Draco was curled in on himself, his chin tucked against his chest and his shoulder's bowed defensively. Charlie recognized the same hurt look from the first night at Saint Mungo's. It was almost as if Draco was expecting a verbal or physical assault. It wrenched something deep inside Charlie.

Charlie grabbed Draco and pulled him in close. "Thank you for explaining."

Draco stood stiffly, like a board, in Charlie's arms. He spoke in a monotone, "Does your family always feel that way?"

Charlie was silent for a long time. Long enough that Draco dared a quick glance at Charlie's face—Draco worried for a second that Charlie would realize he had used legilimency to see what Ginny and Charlie were feeling. He had never seen anyone act how Ginny and Charlie were acting and he had gotten curious. Charlie didn't realize that Draco had shown him exactly what he had been feeling as he sat at the table strumming his guitar, right before contrasting it with what Draco was feeling. Charlie knew that Draco was asking something more serious than just whether or not the moment with Ginny was an average example of time with the Weasley clan. He finally settled on saying, "Sometimes we hurt each other, but yes, for the most part, there's a lot of love."

Charlie's words hit Draco hard, it felt like he'd been punched in the gut. He turned and walked away from Charlie. Charlie took a few steps to follow him, but he slowed to a stop because he knew that Draco needed his space. Draco walked along the perimeter, along the forest line, and slid to his knees. He rested his head on a tree trunk, smelling the sap and moss and tangy muted scent of the earth—the scent that Charlie always seemed to carry on his body. He took a shaking breath and knew that he was about to cry—one of those cries that would leave him feeling hollow and empty. He struggled to bottle up all his emotion and regain some semblance of self-control. The thought of Ginny seeing him like this, and the possible ramifications of what would happen if she told Potter or Ron, helped. After a few moments of deep breathing and occulmancy exercises he felt stable enough to return to the cabin. He made eye contact with Charlie. Charlie saw in Draco's gray eyes that he was emotionally stable again. Charlie quickly closed the gap between them to wrap Draco in a tight hug. It was almost enough to cause Draco to lose his hard-won control.

He gripped Charlie's hand and they walked toward the front door. It wasn't until they were on the steps that Draco stopped and looked up at Charlie. He put his hand on Charlie's broad chest. "Wait. What about Ginny?"

Charlie grinned and gave Draco a quick kiss. "Don't worry about it. She won't ask."

"How do you know!" Draco sounded indignant.

Charlie shrugged. "I just do. It's Ginny." He grinned as if that explanation was enough.

"You Weasleys are so infuriating sometimes." Draco huffed a sigh and stomped the last few steps to the front porch. He opened the door and walked inside, wondering what he could say to Ginny that wouldn't leave him looking like a total fool.


	21. Pepperoni

Author's Note: Oh, my lovely readers! Ya'll are the best!

This chapter is dedicated to el33ri and Odette Ashworth, two of my most faithful reviewers! To my unnamed Guest, who left me not one, but two reviews (by accident! but that's okay! and I never would've guessed that you weren't a native English speaker, by the way!), thank you for the kind words. I almost didn't update this one this week because I got into my Ginny story (I guess I've been on a Ginny focus this week?), but because of your review I did! So thank you!

Not much to say about this chapter, except, for those of you wanting more bedroom action: next chapter is gonna be action packed! I'm nervous, because I'm a woman who's only ever been with her husband, so writing slash is kind of scary for me. =D I know, you wouldn't think that based on this story, but c'mon. They are just too cute together! There's not enough Charlie/Draco fanfic out there.

Much love to you. Your feedback and follows make me want to write even more!

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Draco walked into the kitchen, relieved that Charlie was right behind him. He could feel Charlie at his back, a warm, comforting presence. He stepped into the dining area and noticed that there were a bunch of bowls filled with different pizza toppings, in a neat little row along the edge of the table. Ginny had covered them with a sheet of saran wrap. He didn't have to say anything because Ginny beat him to it.

"Char. You said you had pepperoni." Ginny looked cross, and Draco shot a quick glance at Charlie. He shrugged.

"I'm out?"

"Yes! Yes, you're out! How can I have pineapple-and-pepperoni pizza if you don't have the most important topping!" Ginny glared at her brother.

"Use sausage instead." Charlie sprawled out in a chair.

Ginny pursed her lips. Charlie saw a storm approaching and tried to deflect it. "Oh, come on, woman, do you really need pepperoni?"

"Yes. Please, Char?" Draco suppressed a laugh, Ginny had Charlie wrapped around her little finger. He knew before Charlie even said anything that he was about to go pick up pepperoni for Ginny.

He heaved a huge sigh and stood up to rummage through the refrigerator. "I can't help it that pepperoni sandwiches are my favorite. You said you were bringing the toppings!"

Ginny's glare increased in severity. "You said you had pepperoni!"

Recognizing a lost battle when he saw one, Charlie grabbed his jacket and muttered, "Fine. I'll go get more." Charlie turned to Draco. "Sorry. I'll be back in a few minutes, okay?"

Draco nodded. "I could go with you?"

"Oh, no, Dray, stay with me. I've got lots of stories about Charlie to tell you." Ginny smiled from across the table.

"No, he can come with me." Charlie grabbed Draco's wrist. Suddenly, leaving Draco to get to know his sister seemed like a bad idea.

"Don't be like that. I won't tell him about the time you tried to run away from home." Ginny smiled a sweet innocent smile at her brother.

"Ginny." Charlie's voice carried a warning. Draco turned to Charlie with a grin.

"You know, Charlie, I think I'll help Ginny, since I sort of bailed earlier."

Charlie shot Draco a dark look. He pointed a finger at Ginny. "Behave yourself," and then he apparated.

Ginny shot a dirty look at the spot where Charlie was standing a few seconds ago. "It irritates me that he won't let me get access to apparate on the grounds." She sighed. "Anyway, c'mon. Sit down."

Now that Charlie was gone, Draco felt a little panicky. What the hell was he supposed to say to Ginny? "He really ran away from home?"

Ginny laughed. "He tried to follow Bill to school. He got the broom stuck in a tree. Didn't even make it off the property."

Draco's draw dropped. "No way!"

Ginny grinned mischievously. "Yup. Apparently Mum gave him the worst spanking of his life for that stunt. This is all second-hand telling, I wasn't even born at the time. But apparently he wasn't always so great on a broom. Dad had to apparate to the tree to get him down, because when they tried to Wingardium Leviosa him down he freaked out and won't let go of the branches." Draco laughed a little uncontrollably at the image of Charlie trapped in a tree.

After a few seconds of silence, Ginny decided to address the biggest problem she had with ber brother's boyfriend, as directly as possible. "So, I'm gonna level with you, Dray." Ginny rested her arms on the table and leaned forward. Her facial expression grew serious. Draco took a deep breath, worried where this conversation was going.

"I never had any problems with you. I know there was some petty shit between you and Harry, and you and Ron." Ginny tapped her finger on the table for emphasis. "I was there for the trials, so I know why you made the choices you did during the war." Ginny's jaw had a very firm set to it. Draco was reminded of Headmistress McGonagall. Ginny crossed her arms over her chest and shot Draco a very serious glare. "I don't care about any of that. I care about Charlie."

When Draco realized what Ginny was saying, he busted out laughing. "Oh. Ginny. Me too."

"I'm being serious here, Draco!" Ginny glared.

Draco put a hand up to his mouth to cover the smile that he couldn't wipe off his face. "I'm sorry for laughing, Ginny. I ran into Bill earlier today and it wasn't a very pleasant experience. I thought, since Charlie was gone, it was going to be a repeat experience with you. I care about him, Ginny. A lot. He's given me a reason to live again, okay?"

Ginny's eyebrows furrowed into a tight line. "I'm serious. If you hurt his feelings, I will make you regret it."

Draco raised both hands in a surrendering motion. "If I hurt him, I hope you do."

Ginny tried to look threatening for a minute longer, but couldn't really pull it off. She finally smiled at Draco and said, "Okay, then. Glad we cleared that up. Let's finish these pizzas."

"All right." Draco and Ginny worked in companionable silence. He mirrored her, forming his chunk of dough into a perfect circle on the baking sheet, spreading the tomato and basil sauce neatly. She finished both Charlie's and her pizza in the time it took Draco to complete his. Draco thought his looked the neatest of the three, though, it was perfectly round.

Ginny broke the silence first. "Dray, this morning, in Broomstix…"

Draco sighed and became very interested in evenly spacing all the toppings he wanted on his pizza. He was arranging them in little concentric designs.

"Is that a normal thing, for Goyle?" Draco didn't respond at first, so Ginny reached out and touched his hand.

Draco nodded once, and refused to look up at Ginny.

"What else has he done?" Ginny watched Draco, but he still refused to acknowledge her.

"Dray. I'm not asking here, I'm telling. What else?" Ginny stood up, hands on her hips. She was radiating ferocity.

Draco finally looked at Ginny. He let out a small, defeated snort. "Don't you think I deserve it?" He sighed and tossed the slivers of onion back into the bowl. Draco leaned back in the chair, running his hands through his hair.

"No, Draco, you don't. That's why I stopped it in Broomstix. I didn't know you were with Charlie then, or else it would have been something a lot worse than antlers." Ginny picked up the bowl of diced pineapple, and added as an afterthought, "No one deserves being bullied."

"What are you going to do, be my bodyguard at Hogwarts?" Draco couldn't help the sarcasm.

"Maybe. Do you need one?"

He let out a sigh of disbelief. "Oh, you Weasleys are something else."

"I know. But guess what?"

"Hmm?" Draco reached for the bowl of diced mushrooms.

"You're part of the family, now." Ginny smiled at Draco, but before he could say anything, Charlie apparated into the room.

"Here's your stupid pepperoni! Maybe, if you ate more than two toppings on your pizza, you would have been fine with no pepperoni, woman!"

Charlie tossed the small bag to Ginny, who opened it with relish. She popped a few slices in her mouth and grinned. "Thanks, Char. You're my favorite."

"Hey, what'd ya'll talk about while I was gone?" Charlie shrugged out of his jacket and sat down in front of his pizza dough and glanced at the toppings. Ginny had included everything he liked, except, Charlie thought, it could use more sausage. He reached for the bowl, but Draco's pronouncement made him freeze.

"She told me about the time you flew your broom into the tree and got stuck."

"Ginny!" Charlie glared at his sister.

"Here. You need the cheese." She handed the bowl of cheese to her brother, oblivious to his expression.

Charlie took the cheese and shot a dirty look at Draco. "I was 8, okay?"

"Probably the weather was really bad, too." Draco added, just the barest hint of sarcasm evident by the smile that played across his lips.

"Damn straight." Charlie dumped the rest of the sausage and the cheese onto his pizza, somewhat mollified, while Ginny and Draco shared a fit of giggles.

Ginny popped the pizzas into the oven, and the three sprawled out in the living room. Ginny transfigured the blanket into a fluffy bean-bag chair, where she lounged with her hands behind her head. Charlie tucked Draco under his arm, and propped his feet up on the coffee table. The evening was filled with laughter and stories. Draco was really amused at Ginny—she was so different from he'd expected from their limited interactions at Hogwarts.

After dinner, Ginny said her goodbyes. She whispered into Draco's ear, "I haven't seen Char this happy in a long time. He's always so lonely."

She gave her brother a fierce hug and admonished, "Buy more pepperoni if you eat what's left! Or else dinner's off this next weekend!"

"Okay, okay, bossypants." Charlie kissed the top of her head, and then his sister walked through his Floo into the Burrow. Charlie reached for Draco and held him close.

"Was meeting my sister really that awful?"

Draco paused for a moment, trying to choose the best answer. He finally settled on, "She threatened me," and was rewarded by the look of shock on Charlie's face.

"She what?!"

"She said if I hurt you, she'll make me regret it. I believe it. She's incredibly talented with a wand." Draco kissed Charlie's cheek, and admitted, "but no, it wasn't as awful as I was expecting. I hope the rest of your family is like her."

Charlie slid his hands under Draco's shirt, and ran his fingers lightly over his ribs. "We'll worry about our families later. C'mon. It's time for bed."


	22. Thoughts Unspoken

Author's Note: First, sorry for the wait. Ya'll know I try to update on the weekend and it's already Wednesday...sorry. I'm always pleasantly surprised that every time I log in to post a new chapter someone has commented or marked this story as a favorite. Ya'll are awesome, and encourage me when I get stuck. True fact! Also, this chapter has been rated M for adult, consensual behavior. Don't be all up in my story if you might have to explain to your parents why you're reading what you're reading. Or we shall fight: (ง •̀_•́)ง

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Draco grabbed his pajama pants and a shirt out of his trunk and ducked into the bathroom. He still felt uncomfortable at the thought of being naked in front of Charlie—irrational, but true. Charlie smiled but didn't comment. He stripped off his clothes and slipped into boxers. When Draco emerged from the bathroom, Charlie was sitting on bed, feet planted on the ground. "Draco, m'ere."

Draco set the bundle of clothes down and stood between Charlie's knees. Charlie touched his cheek, tenderly, and leaned in to kiss Draco.

Draco felt shy but was soon lost in Charlie's kiss. He didn't realize that he'd pressed his body into Charlie's. His hands were wrapped around Charlie's back, one hand held a fistful of Charlie's hair, the other was splayed in the sway of Charlie's lower back. He was pulling Charlie's tight body into an embrace. The smell of Charlie, and the taste of his mouth, was intoxicating. Draco let go of Charlie and pulled back from the kiss rather suddenly.

A look of surprised crossed Charlie's face. He dropped his hands from Draco's face, ran them down Draco's arms, and asked, "Okay?"

"Yes." Draco smiled shyly at Charlie. Charlie scooted back further onto the bed, hands outstretched, keeping contact with Draco. He crawled up on the bed, staying between Charlie's legs. Kneeling in front of Charlie, Draco ignored the amused expression on Charlie's face. Charlie lay back, his ocean-colored eyes stared up at Draco, full of promise and hidden things. His eyes roamed over his pale body with an almost possessive gaze that made Draco's pulse race. Draco lay down, tucked between Charlie's left arm and his scarred ribs. He rested his cheek on Charlie's chest, and gave his nipple a quick lick. Draco had a moment of unusual boldness, and ran his hand lightly over Charlie's stomach. He stopped at the waistband of Charlie's boxers. He pulled back and looked up at Charlie's face with wide eyes.

Charlie grinned at Draco, and leaned down to give him a quick kiss. He bit at Draco's lower lip and pulled it into his mouth. After playing his tongue across Draco's lip, Charlie pulled back. "You're wearing too many clothes." His voice was deeper, huskier. Charlie's hands were already under Draco's shirt.

Draco tucked his face into Charlie's shoulder and mumbled, "I can't."

"Okay." Charlie's voice was gentle, and held no traces of disappointment. He reached to the nightstand and grabbed his wand. _Nox. _

Charlie grabbed Draco's thigh with his free hand and pulled Draco up—after a few seconds of tugging and rearranging, Charlie had Draco situated on top of him. Draco slid his fingers into Charlie's hair, and kept his face planted in the crook of his neck. Charlie ran his hands up from the back of Draco's knee to Draco's ass, cupping his cheeks through the thin pajama material before running his hands back down again. His moved in careful, gentle strokes.

Charlie was trying to figure out why Draco shut down so suddenly, and not sure what to say. He finally just decided to ask.

"Draco, did I do something to upset you?" Charlie kept running his hand over the smooth planes of Draco's body.

"I'm not upset." Charlie couldn't help it, he rolled his eyes at Draco's defensive tone.

After a few seconds Charlie sighed, and hugged Draco close. He debated hopping out of the bed to take a cold shower—or make cinnamon rolls for breakfast, or going to feed dragons, or something, anything to give him distance and time to calm the desire—no, lust-he was feeling for Draco. Charlie had never taken so long with a lover, and these past few days seemed like endless foreplay. The longer he held Draco close, the more Charlie felt like he was going to lose his self control and pressure Draco into something he wasn't ready to do. His body was ringing with tension and unmet desire.

Draco, meanwhile, was struggling between letting his shields down and trusting Charlie, embarrassment at sharing his fantasies involving things he and Charlie might do, and discomfiture at his own body. He was especially unsure of himself when he started comparing his body with the older, more experienced man who was holding him tightly. After a few minutes, Draco realized that Charlie's silence and rigid body underneath him might mean that he was angry or disappointed. Draco was unable to decipher the expression on Charlie's face. He could feel panic building at the thought of Charlie being upset with his actions. The suspicion that his own stand-off-ish behavior had made Charlie feel rejected, and the concern that he might decide that he didn't want Draco around anymore, sent a fluttering of anxiety through Draco's stomach.

Draco opened his mouth to ask Charlie if he was upset, but instead he found himself moving his lips silently to mouth the word _Legitimens! _He felt himself slide into Charlie's mind, almost against his own volition. He didn't even have to sift through the layers of thoughts and memories and feelings: Charlie's hunger was screaming at him. The images bombarded Draco.

He saw himself impaled on Charlie's lap, head thrown back in pleasure, Charlie running his fingers across his collarbone and down his chest.

Just as quickly as that image appeared, Draco saw himself sprawled on the bed, his stomach propped up by pillows with Charlie sliding himself carefully, deeply, into Draco.

Before Draco could register any details, the image shifted again, like he was flipping through photographed snap-shots of desire. Draco over the arm of the couch, Charlie reaching around, his hand sliding along his dick in time with his own thrusting.

Draco sprawled on the bed, with Charlie's lips tracing their way up his inner thigh.

He was pressed up against the wall of the shower, Charlie's teeth on his shoulder, and hands holding Draco's hips.

Draco nestled in Charlie's arms spooning in the bed, while Charlie slipped inside him.

Charlie and Draco going down on each other at the same time; the images kept coming in a blur. It made Draco dizzy.

Draco took a deep breath and distanced himself from the images flooding from Charlie's mind. It was almost as if Draco had shuffled a deck of cards, and each card was one of Charlie's thoughts. He scooped the cards together and was about to slide them home into their box when one caught his attention. He fell into Charlie's fantasy so quickly he felt his breath leave his body in a loan moan.

Draco was on his back, his feet propped up on Charlie's shoulders while Charlie gripped Draco's hips. Because of the legitimens connection, Draco could feel Charlie's body in a weird imprint over his own: his scrotum felt heavy and warm and thudding against the smoothness of Draco's backside as he pushed deeply. He felt his blood pound in his ears, and pulse through his dick as it nestled in the warm tightness of Draco. He reached down and gently gripped Draco in his hand—_Charlie _wants_ to touch me like this? _Draco wondered in amazement—and Draco was startled to see himself arch his back and pant desperately as Charlie brought him to the point of orgasm. As Draco got closer, he clenched tighter and tighter around Charlie. He felt himself come, writhing on the bed and calling out Charlie's name. With a grunt, Charlie came, and Draco couldn't breath as he felt what Charlie was feeling. There was a moment when all the building tension disappeared and for split second he hovered in nothingness. It was as if time stopped—then, in an instant, he felt that tension snap, and the orgasm crashed over him. As his body trembled in euphoria, the room faded away and there was nothing in Charlie's mind but a complete awareness of Draco—and that surprised Draco more than anything else he'd seen in his short foray into Charlie's mind. The image started to shift again, and Draco severed the legitimens connection.

Draco groaned and rolled off Charlie. He sprawled out on the bed. His pulse was racing. Charlie sat up nervously. Hesitantly he reached out to touch Draco; he rested his hand on Draco's stomach. "Draco?"

"Kiss me, Charlie."

"What?" Charlie was confused with the sudden change of request.

"I'm sorry, Charlie, I didn't mean to pry into your mind, it just kind of happened, and I saw what you want, and I want it too, I just didn't know how to tell you that, and I wasn't sure if you wanted me that way, but now I know." Draco spoke in a rush, his words tumbling out before he could stop them.

Charlie sat up and ran a hand through his red hair, a little shocked by Draco's confession. "Wait, you just legitimensed me? What did you see, exactly!" His voice was a little indignant. Draco flushed bright red, and grabbed a pillow and pressed it over his face.

"Oh Merlin." Draco's voice was muffled.

Charlie stared at the pale arm holding the pillow and started smiling as the full significance of Draco's outburst registered. "Not only did you see what I was thinking, but you want to do it too, huh?"

Draco made a small noise that was smothered by the pillow. Charlie, however, was smiling so hard his cheeks hurt. He tried to pry the pillow away from Draco, but Draco's embarrassment wouldn't let him face Charlie.

"So you won't mind if I take these off?" Charlie gave up on the pillow, and started pulling on Draco's pajama pants.

Draco let go of the pillow and grabbed at the waistband. Charlie seized the opportunity and snatched the pillow away from Draco. Smiling, he leaned down over Draco and planted a kiss on his nose.

"Don't be embarrassed, c'mon. I'm not rushing you. Okay? I'm sorry if what you saw overwhelmed you." Charlie ran his hands down Draco's arms.

Draco was still blushing a little pink. "I want to try. I've wanted it for a while, I just didn't know if you wanted me that way."

"C'mere. I love you, Draco. I want to wake up every day next to you, and enjoy every little bit of your body." Charlie kissed Draco's neck. "This bit here." He moved his lips down to Draco's stomach, and kissed the little band of skin that peeked out between his shirt and fuzzy pants. "And this part here." Charlie slid Draco's shirt up so it bunched under his armpits. "This part here. And here. And here." Charlie planted a row of kisses along Draco's ribcage.

Draco slipped the shirt over his head, and Charlie kissed the crook of Draco's elbow. "This bit, too."

A little giggle escaped Draco. He wrapped his arms around Charlie, tightly, and kissed him deeply. He whispered, "You really want me?"

Charlie refrained from blurting out, "How can someone as gorgeous as you be so insecure!" Instead, he pulled away slightly from Draco and searched his eyes. He when he spoke, his lips hovering over Draco's, his breath warm and mingling with Draco's, "I want you, Draco Malfoy, if you'll have me."

Draco closed his eyes so Charlie wouldn't see the tears, and closed the distance between them. It was a surprisingly chaste kiss, considering the shared daydream Draco had just witnessed. It didn't take long though, before it grew into a wild and hot kiss, and Draco knew that he'd be experiencing that fantasy for real.

* * *

Second Author's Note: This chapter was a really difficult one for me to write. Let me explain. Anal sex in real life (whether it's two guys involved or not) is something that does NOT happen like everyone thinks it does in porn or in these little ficlets. The first time can take a long time and often several tries to make it work right, and the "top" has to be extremely patient and careful, otherwise there can be a lot of pain. There shouldn't be any "pushing past the pain." That's not how it works. (Not that I'm some expert on the topic; but I did actually do a bit of research on gay sex because I wanted to be as true-to-reality as possible. I know, this is fiction. Anyway, I digress.) I didn't want to write this chapter where Draco and Charlie are in the throes of lust and desire and trying to work through their first experience...but I didn't want to just gloss over the fact that Charlie and Draco are for the first time really reaching this level of intimacy; clearly, this chapter needed to be written...SO, it left me stumped: do I write this as some passionate erotica or do I keep it real, with the awkwardness and false starts and necessary communication that can kind of "kill the mood" if you're a reader and not engaged in the festivities? Charlie's first lover, Amin, probably told Charlie to just "push past the pain" and that's not how it's supposed to work. I'm positive that Charlie would not take that same route with Draco. But, I also didn't want this story to turn into a mini-lecture on "how to have anal sex." (although, as I reread this second note, I kind of did that anyway. Sorry; it's the wine talking.) So, depending on the feedback, I might try in the next chapter to actually have this happen "in real life" and not through some Legitimens connection. Either way, ya'll get to look forward to Draco going back to school, dealing with his father's release from Azkaban, and meeting the rest of the Weasley clan...and goodness, Charlie might even have to brave meeting the Malfoys...


	23. Legitimens Realized

**Author's Note: **Two weeks, I know, that's crazy, and I'm sorry. I've got a major exam this week and had one of those 36 hour stints at work, and updated my other story...so hopefully things settle down after this test and I'll have more free time to write and update and read more stories... Heads up, this chapter is definitely rated M FOR MATURE so don't read it if you've got delicate sensibilities. There's really no plot in this chapter, just...sex (maybe that's why it's about 1/2 the length of my other chapters, no plot) Anyway, enjoy!

* * *

Charlie surfaced from kissing Draco, and keeping him cradled close to his chest with one arm, he grabbed at his nightstand with the other. Draco ran his hands along Charlie's ribs and smiled into his chest at the crashing noises he made rifling through the drawers. After a few seconds he rolled off Draco, clutching a small bottle in his hand.

Charlie slipped his boxers off and reached over to tug on Draco's pajamas. "Okay, okay, I got it." Draco sat up on his knees and tugged off his pants. Charlie sprawled out in the middle of the bed. He reached over and stole Draco's pillow, and propped it behind his back.

Draco's eyes ran over Charlie's hard, muscled body, but he quickly averted them when he realized Charlie was watching the way he was staring.

"Draco, c'mere." Charlie shifted so he was on his side and pulled Draco down to the bed. Draco lay on his stomach, pressed along Charlie's body. Charlie smiled at how his tan made Draco's pale skin look like it was almost glowing. Charlie ran his hands over Draco's back. At his touch, Draco crossed his arms and rested his cheek on his forearm. He looked over at Charlie, and surprised to see a tender expression of admiration.

"Draco…if I make you uncomfortable, you gotta tell me, okay?" Charlie stopped moving his hands over Draco's back and bottom, and leaned down so his face was inches away from Draco's.

"I'll tell you." Draco tried not to roll his eyes at Charlie. He desperately wanted this, and he knew Charlie did too. While he thought it was sweet that Charlie was being so careful and sensitive to Draco's needs, he was being completely oblivious to Draco's eagerness.

"Kay." Charlie shifted so he was almost laying down, but he kept his hand on Draco's ass. He rubbed and squeezed and touched. After a few seconds he drew his hand back and spanked Draco's ass in quick succession.

"Hey!" Draco tried to roll away but Charlie grabbed his thigh and pulled him back.

"I couldn't help myself! Sorry!" He quickly rubbed the sting out of Draco's now slightly pink bottom, his fingers exploring more intimate places than just the blushing cheeks. mollified, Draco rested his chin on his arms, and continued to watch Charlie's face. He'd never admit it to Charlie, but the tingling warmth from Charlie's slapping had actually felt kind of nice. He just felt it was undignified. Charlie slid his hand lower, between his legs. Draco lifted himself slightly in the air once he realized where Charlie was trying to touch. Charlie ran his thumbnail gently along the strip of skin below his rosebud. The sensation was almost too much for Draco, and he made a whimpering sound. Charlie ran his fingers over the skin that was now drawn tightly across his balls. Draco's erection was pressing against his stomach, and Charlie cupped him in his hand. He slid his hand along the length of Draco, and back up to the cleft between his cheeks. He repeated this several times, until Draco was positively squirming. Charlie's touch was light and left Draco wanting more.

Charlie grabbed the little bottle from earlier, and squirted a small amount of lube on the tip of his fingers. He pressed his fingers gently against Draco. He didn't try to enter him, but ran his fingers around the soft skin and watched Draco squirm from pleasure.

He'd walked plenty of other men through this experience, but this was the first time where he'd been emotionally invested. Instead of focusing on his own pleasure, he was concentrating entirely on Draco. Charlie carefully inserted a finger, watching Draco's body spasm. Draco gasped and clenched in surprise, and then he relaxed. Charlie didn't push, but moved his finger in a small circular motion. Draco pressed his face into the crook of his elbow and whimpered. Charlie froze, afraid he was causing Draco pain.

"Why'd you stop?" Draco choked out.

"Are you okay? Did I hurt you?"

"No, it just feels so good!" Draco gasped, barely able to speak. He felt like the edges of his vision were blurry, like his vision was narrowing to just Charlie.

Charlie slipped his finger all the way into Draco. With his other hand he began stroking Draco's dick. After a few minutes he slipped in another finger and was rewarded by a sigh from Draco. He drew his fingers in and out slowly, watching every part of Draco's reaction.

Charlie smiled at the red flush to Draco's pale skin. His eyes were closed, fluttering, and his jaw slack with pleasure. Draco was almost unaware that he was the one moving against Charlie's fingers. Charlie had stopped moving his hand as soon as he felt Draco taking over the rhythm.

"Draco, do you want to try something other than my fingers?"

Draco stilled, and looked up at Charlie. "Yes, but I'm afraid you won't fit. You're so much bigger than this." Draco held up two fingers and gave Charlie a look of embarrassment.

"Here, if I'm on my back, you can control what goes in, and how far." Charlie reclined next to Draco. Draco sat up, and straddled Charlie's thighs.

"Wait, this first." Charlie ripped open a small foil packet and quickly slipped a condom over his throbbing dick. Draco picked up the bottle of lube and poured a small amount into his palm. Charlie had that grin, that knowing grin—part possessiveness, part excitement, part confidence in the pleasure that will be shortly coming, and he closed his eyes as Draco slid his hand over his member. After a few strokes, Charlie slid his hands under Draco's ass and lifted him closer. Draco pinwheeled his hands trying to find his balance; he ended up placing them on Charlie's muscular chest.

"I'm gonna hold you at first, so your legs don't cramp, okay? But it's all you." Charlie maneuvered Draco so that just the tip brushed against him. Draco's eyes widened in anticipation. He shifted again, so that Charlie was barely touching him. Draco felt Charlie's heartbeat start racing as he slowly lowered himself.

A million thoughts ran through Draco's mind. He wanted Charlie to enjoy himself and was embarrassed at his own inexperience. He was self-conscious of his own body. Draco worried about how the hell Charlie was going to even fit, he was afraid that he was going to come before he even had a chance to feel Charlie inside him—because just the tip was enough to push him to the edge. Draco noticed how the muscles in Charlie's arms bunched and moved, how his breathing changed, how a little bead of sweat slid along his neck. The room faded into bas relief and Draco was left with a hypervision of Charlie. He could see every little red curling hair on his chest and arms, he could see Charlie's eyelashes flutter on his cheeks.

In fact, Draco was so focused on Charlie that it was a bit of a shock when it registered that Charlie was groaning. "Draco, Draco, oh Merlin, I'm—hmwaahuhhh! I am so, so close!" With a start, he realized he'd managed to slide all the way down so that his ass was resting on Charlie's thighs.

Grinning, he leaned forward and planted a quick kiss on Charlie's lips. "I did it."

Charlie tried not to laugh, and it came out as a small giggle, "Yes, and damn, Draco, damn. I'm going to spill in a minute, let me bring you first."

Charlie let go of Draco's thighs. One hand shifted through the sheets, but Draco reached to the nightstand. "This?"

Not trusting himself to speak, Charlie held out his hand. Draco squeezed the muscles in his ass, and Charlie bucked his hips. "Oh don't do that, if you do that I won't be—" Draco started moving slowly, which caused Charlie to stop talking with a grunt. He tried to control his breathing, and motion, but he was so close to orgasm. Draco poured a small amount of lube on his own hand, because Charlie was gripping the bedsheets.

Draco fondled himself, and once Charlie realized what Draco was doing he let go of the bed and grabbed Draco instead. It only took a few seconds for the two men to coordinate their thrusting, and it only took a few minutes more before Draco came in a shudder, spraying over Charlie's washboard abs. As soon as he was finished, Charlie gave one more thrust and spent himself inside Draco.

Draco looked around the bed for something to clean the mess, but Charlie had beaten him to it, and was using his pajama pants. "We could go take a quick shower?"

"Just hold me for a second, Charlie."

"Okay." With a smile, Charlie pulled Draco close. Draco rested the side of his face on Charlie's chest, and listened to his heartbeat. It didn't take long before both men were sound asleep.


	24. Paradigm Shift

Charlie woke up and smiled when he saw Draco's rumpled hair and upturned face. He was sleeping deeply, so Charlie tried to extricate himself quietly.

He was nearly done with his shower and was scrubbing conditioner into his hair when he felt a cold breeze hit his backside. He turned around and smiled at Draco, who was holding the curtain open.

"Can I join you?" Draco bit his lip nervously.

"Yup. Hop in, you're letting all my steam out." Charlie gave Draco a soggy kiss, water dripping down his face.

Draco ducked his head under the spray, and Charlie grabbed the bottle of Mrs. Skowers Body Wash for Wizards!—the best thing for getting rid of grime from working with the dragons-and poured a glob into his hands. He rubbed it on Draco's shoulders, and down his back. Draco turned around and smiled at Charlie. Playfully, Charlie's hands dipped lower. Draco decided he liked the way the slick soap felt; it made the skin-on-skin contact delicious. They stumbled awkwardly over each other trying to switch places. After Charlie got settled under the spray and was rinsing his hair, he realized Draco was shivering.

"It's cold over here! Hurry up!" Charlie laughed at Draco, who was standing in the corner shivering. He slid past Draco, trying not to touch his soapy body.

He leaned forward and planted a kiss on Draco's dampened hair. "Here, I'm done. Water sounds romantic, but it really isn't. Sex on the beach or in a pool is worse than trying to share a shower. I'll go start breakfast."

Charlie stepped out of the shower—the cold hair hitting Draco in a blast—and toweled dry.

Draco didn't take much longer in the shower. By the time he dressed and walked into the kitchen, Charlie was just about to pour some batter into the skillet.

"Cooking, Charlie, is not like potions. If you ever mixed something in your cauldron that looked like this, it's no wonder you always had stuff blowing up in your face." Draco peered into the bowl suspiciously.

"Oh, shut up." Charlie pulled Draco against his side for a hug while brandishing the spatula. "What do you want to do today?"

"Dunno. Aren't you s'posed to check on the dragons again?" Draco fiddled with his mug of tea.

"Well, we only feed them once a week, and Lajiness said he'd owl if he needed help with the scale-rot." Charlie expertly flipped a pancake, which was golden brown. "I guess I should check up on Ming, and her egg, though."

A sharp rat-a-tat-tat on the window interrupted Charlie's train of thought. He and Draco both looked out the window and saw a large, silky-black raven perched on the windowsill. A roll of parchment was tied to the bird's leg.

_Rat-a-tat-tat! Rat-a-tat-tat! _

"Fuck. That's Aunt Bella's bird, Potestas." While Draco stood and opened the window, Charlie opened the fridge and grabbed the hamburger meat. Draco reached for the bird and received a sharp nip that drew blood and profanity—but Charlie reached around Draco and set a clump of the raw meat on the windowsill. The bird dug in with gusto, and Charlie retrieved the letter with ease.

He silently handed the letter to Draco, who was nursing his wounded hand, and returned to flip the pancakes.

Draco opened the letter and sat down heavily at the table. Charlie brought over two plates piled high with pancakes, and silently reached for the butter and maple syrup.

Draco slid the letter across the counter, and dug into his pancakes.

"May I read it?" Charlie's eyebrows were raised in question. Draco nodded.

In large, elegant script, Charlie read,

"My beloved son, Draco Lucius Malfoy,

It is incumbent upon you to assume your role as heir and successor of the Malfoy family. It would behoove you to return to the Manor posthaste.

Warmest regards and all my love,

Your Mother"

At the bottom of the letter, in markedly smaller print,

"Please. I'm begging you."

Charlie folded the parchment and silently regarded Draco. Draco studiously avoided eye-contact. He spoke down to his plate. "These pancakes are delicious."

"Thanks. So are you going to go home?"

"Mm-hmm." Draco made a noncommittal noise while spearing another piece of pancake and lifting it, oozing syrup, to his mouth. Charlie still hadn't touched his breakfast.

"You can come back whenever you want; I won't lock the Floo. I may end up visiting the Burrow today."

Draco set down his fork and rested his forearm on the edge of the table. He clasped his hands. He still refused to look at Charlie.

"You don't have to go, if you don't want to, Draco. Ginny told me that Bill and Fleur are visiting the Burrow today, and I'd like to see him. You could come with me, if you wanted." Charlie stirred his coffee, and took a sip before starting on his pancakes.

Draco sighed and picked up his napkin and crumpled it. "No. Last time I met Bill it was a disaster. I need to go home. I just don't want to deal with them. Father's probably unhinged."

Charlie gulped his orange juice, and asked. "You met Bill?"

"Yeah. At Gringott's. He was an ass."

"He was? Really? Did he know you and I…" his voice trailed off uncertainly as he took in Draco's sour expression. "Well," he added, "Bill's been the only one supportive of me since I came out to the family. Except Ginny, but she doesn't count."

Draco smiled weakly, "I'm sure he is supportive of _you_, but I doubt he'll be supportive of _us_. He made it perfectly clear that I'm scum."

A scowl darkened Charlie's features. "I'm going to hex him into next year."

A small laugh, "Sure, Charlie, that'll win him over to liking me. Anyway, I'll meet him once you've given him some warning. Not today. Tell Ginny hi, though."

"I'll tell her. She's taken a liking to you, Draco. Makes me happy."

"I was worried that she'd be carrying some grudges for Weasley, eh, Ron, and Potter, but I guess she's not the grudge-keeping type." Draco sipped his coffee and contemplated what it would be like seeing one friendly face at Hogwarts.

They finished the meal in companionable silence, until Draco realized Potestas was sitting on the windowsill. Even though he knew it wasn't true, he felt like the ugly black bird was glaring at him. "I hate that fucking bird. He's probably waiting for a reply."

Draco summoned a quill and ink and penned a reply on the back of the note. He cupped it in the palm of his hands and muttered a charm. The parchment folded in on itself and fluttered to the window where the raven snatched it between his beak and took to the air.

The broad-shouldered redhead let out a small "whoa." Draco looked at him, amused. "That's impressive, that's all."

Draco smirked. "You never passed notes in class?"

Charlie laughed. "Not like that. That's some nice charm work. I used _Waddiwassi._"

Draco rolled his eyes and sniggered at the thought of Professor McGonagall catching a note zipping across her class at top speed, as if Peeves had thrown it. She'd be pissed, for sure.

Charlie was sorely tempted to ask Draco what he said in his reply, but held his peace. He loaded the dishes into the sink, tapped his wand and muttered _Aguamenti! _In short order the dishes were cleaned.

"Hey, Charlie?" He turned from the sink, surprised to see Draco in formal dress robes. His black slacks and shined wingtip shoes were barely visible at the hem.

"I'm going to go deal with Mother. And I'll be back."

Charlie leaned in to kiss Draco. "Okay. What do you want for dinner?"

"I don't know." Draco shrugged. He doubted he'd be able to keep any food down after this visit, if it went as badly as he was expecting. His mother's footnote concerned him greatly.

* * *

Draco stepped through the Floo and arrived in his bedroom at the Manor. A quick glance in the mirror assured him that his hair was still perfect and his robes were neat. He took a deep breath and was about to walk out when a small house elf appeared. The _pop! _started Draco, and he quickly spun, brandishing his wand.

"You're new." He lowered the wand and studied the small elf.

"If Littlest Master Malfoy isn't wanting Tally's help Tally will be going, sir! Please do not be angry with Tally!" The little elf cowered, the pillowcase slipping off his shoulders.

Draco sighed. "No, I could use an update."

"Update, sir?"

"Where is everyone, what is going on the Manor, is mother all right, is father in a mood, you know. An update." Draco leaned against his dresser and crossed his arms. He watched the elf struggling to decide if he was allowed to give an update, and then finally caving when he realized that Draco was a Malfoy.

"Master Malfoy is being in his room. Littlest Malfoy's mother is being in the great room playing the harp. Tally is not knowing if Master Malfoy is being in a mood, sir, because no one is bothering him, he was wanting to be alone, sir." The elf cringed and Draco suppressed a sigh. He squatted down and looked at the elf's big eyes.

"Would Tally be so kind as to bring mother and me some tea and biscuits in the great room, after I've had a chance to speak with her?"

"Yes, sir, Littlest Master Malfoy!" the elf dissapparated, before Draco could give him further instructions. Draco stood up and braced himself for meeting his mother. Even though it would take him a significant amount of time to leave the wing where his rooms were and make it to the Great Room he chose to walk instead of apparate. He finally made it to the large stairwell and descended to the foyer. He glanced about, feeling unnerved by the silence in the Manor. Last year it had been the Dark Lord's headquarters. If a meeting of the Death Eaters wasn't in full swing, his crazy Aunt Bellatrix and his mother were engaging in some noisy ruckus. Torturing muggles or Merlin-knows-what those two did to amuse themselves. He wasn't sure his Aunt Bella had ever really 'grown up;' she seemed to act like some of the third years at Hogwarts, and she'd always managed to drag his mother into her messes. Draco walked on silent feet toward the doors of the Great Hall.

Draco heard the beautiful melody of his mother's harp drifting faintly through the Great Hall and into the Foyer. He stood silent, for a minute, outside the massive, darkly stained rosewood doors. Draco took the time to ensure his occulmancy shields were in place and, once confident his mother would not rattle his calm and collected demeanor, Draco slipped between the doors. He waited for a minute for her to acknowledge him, but realized she was wholly focused on her music. So, Draco strode confidently across the room to the grand piano and began accompanying his mother. His mother was so lost in her harp that it took her several minutes to realize her son was not only in the room, but harmonizing with him. When she glanced up and saw him, Narcissa shrieked and darted to her son.

"Dray, Dray, Dray!" She sobbed into his neck. Draco twisted awkwardly and returned his mother's hug. He was completely surprised by her outbursts. Malfoys were not known for their displays of affection.

"You look well, Mum. I haven't heard you play in a long time."

She muttered something that Draco couldn't quite make out, and then pulled back. She held her son at arm's length and patted his cheek. "You look well, too, son. I've missed you."

Narcissa pulled him close, again, for a quick hug. Tally's sudden appearance with the tea-tray saved Draco from floundering about for awkward conversation. He sat next to his mother on the love seat in front of the massive window.

She poured him tea and added the right amount of honey and milk. Draco glanced into the sun-lit yard and smiled to see the peacocks on the lawn and the swans on the lake. If he concentrated, he could almost pretend they were reliving his summer vacation from four years ago.

They drank their tea silently. Using legitimancy, Draco sent out a tendril of thought and was surprised to realize his mother was shielding as hard as he was. He set down his cup of tea in the saucer and relaxed his body language as much as possible, in efforts to put his mother at ease.

"Mum, why are you shielding?" Draco asked the question nonchalantly, hoping to catch her off guard.

Narcissa was so surprised that she almost dropped her teacup. "I forgot we trained you to be the best, Draco."

He smiled, and raised his eyebrows as if to say, "Continue."

"Your father's health has declined incredibly. He's bedridden and refuses to see anyone. I was hoping you might visit him and—" she fell silent when she saw the expression of distaste Draco wore. She set the cup and saucer on the tray.

"I know, son, the past few years…." Narcissa brushed her black hair, streaked with pale blonde, behind her shoulders and crossed her hands in her lap. "We expected and demanded things that we had no right to ask of you."

"Mum, I never wanted to disappoint you, or father." Draco paused when he saw the tears forming in his mother's pale blue eyes.

He continued resolutely, "But Mum, those choices I made for you and father, for family, for pride, and power and all the things the Malfoy name stands for, those choices…" his voice trailed off, and he bit the inside of his cheek.

"They weren't best." His mother finished the thought for him, her voice sounding strange and choked.

"Yeah."

"Draco, you have never disappointed me. You never will." Narcissa reached out to pat Draco's leg, but couldn't quite bring herself to touch him. She was afraid of his rejection.

"I appreciate the words and the sentiment behind them, Mother, but I doubt you can help yourself. I'm making my own choices now, with, or without, your approval." His voice was haughty, his pride drawn around himself in a safeguard like before the war-before his family was humiliated and he was brought low. He gave his mother a look that was part defiance, part sorrow, and all adult. Narcissa drew back, startled to realize that her son was his own person now. She knew in that instant that he no longer needed, or even wanted, her approval, and she felt her heart breaking.

Instead of rising to her son's combative tone, she chose to change topics entirely. "Draco. I've been in contact with Minerva." Narcissa pursed her lips, debating on how much of Minerva's confidence she could safely break without leaving her son and the Headmistress angry with her. She finally settled on, "Severus passed on his duties as your godfather to her. Did she tell you?"

"Uncle Sev did what?" Draco was completely surprised. He sat up and leaned toward his mother, hands on his knees. He looked ready to jump to his feet.

"Yes, he passed the bindings to her. It was out of our control. Technically, I suppose, you're of age. You could break the bindings, if you wish, but once he passed them to her, neither your father nor I could change it." Narcissa gazed seriously at her son, hoping this news wouldn't upset him.

Draco processed this new information, and realized that was probably a large factor in Headmistress McGonagall's efforts to assist him with his academic career, and her strategic, Slytherin maneuvering to let him use Uncle Sev's office and her Floo.

"So what has she told you?" Draco crossed his arms and looked suspiciously at his mother.

"Just where you were earlier this week." Narcissa spoke cautiously, feeling that she was on unsure footing with her son. He'd started this conversation so very aggressively, as if he was expecting a fight.

"Yeah?" Draco's tone was partially defiant, expecting his mother's normal reaction when things didn't go according to her plan.

Quietly, his mother continued, "With Charles Weasley at the Dragon Reserve."

"Did she tell you—"

"—yes." She interrupted her son, not really comfortable with the fact that he had been pursuing a romantic relationship with a man. She also realized, that given how the conversation had started, that if she wanted any relationship to continue with Draco she would have to be very, very careful about expressing her opinions regarding what he should, and should not, do.

"And that doesn't _disappoint _you?" Draco asked the last with a slight sneer; he couldn't help himself.

"It makes me uncomfortable, son, what do you want me to say? That I'm excited for you?!" Narcissa stopped, and took a deep breath to control her emotions. Draco sat in stony silence, wanting to be angry. He was just waiting for Narcissa to say the wrong thing and give him a reason to vent years of hurt and frustration. He waited, and watched his mother. She pressed her shaking hand to her lips for second before continuing, "I want you to be happy, Draco. It hurts me more than you will ever know that the past few years I never brought you anything but pain." Her voice started to crack, and her eyes filled with tears. "I know you're going to make your own choices now. If this makes you happy, I will try, I promise I will try, to be supportive of you." She paused, and then added as an afterthought, "That's the best I can offer you right now." Narcissa turned her face away from Draco and closed her eyes against the tears that threatened to fall. She had never felt so close to losing her son—not even when he'd accepted the repugnant Dark Mark. This time, instead of some crazed madman or his father, Narcissa realized that she, and she alone, would be responsible for pushing her son away forever, or preserving their relationship. She had lost some critical component-maybe her son's respect, she wasn't sure-and now, if Draco would remain in her life, it would be entirely on his terms. She could take it, or leave it. Accept him, or he'd walk away-forever.

Draco didn't say anything for a long time. Narcissa had never felt so fragile. Her thoughts were swirling like a maelstrom, leaving her feeling lightheaded. She wondered if her son was intentionally rebelling against the standards that they had tried to instill in him. What if Lord Voldemort's exploitation of her son had damaged a core part of him? She sniffed, consoling herself with the fact that it could be worse. He could have been with a muggle. As it was, his academic choices—a mere Healer or Potions Master, really? He could've been running the Wizengamot or been the Minister of Magic, there was only one student who was even close to his academic performance at Hogwarts and she was a mudblood—and his behavior, if made public, would mar his social standing permanently.

"Mother, you and father _have_ marred my social standing permanently. I can't even go to the bank without being made to feel like a pariah." Narcissa gave a small jolt when she realized Draco had used legitimacy and been enmeshed so sufficiently in her thoughts that she hadn't even realized he'd done it. She looked at him in shock. She started, as if he'd slapped her, when she finally understood the full weight of his words. His accusation was entirely true. She gulped, even more afraid that she'd lost her son permanently.

"No, Mother. You haven't lost me." Draco sighed, and reached out to pat his mother's hand. "I am responsible for my own actions. I wish I hadn't been pressured by you and father to make the choices I did, though."

Narcissa nodded and tried to replace the mental shields that her son had so easily wormed past. Draco smiled when he realized what his mother was doing. He gracefully withdrew and gave her semblance of privacy. He sighed and spoke solemnly. "Mum, I appreciate you trying to—" he made a twisting motion in the air with his hand—"change, or let go of, your expectations for me. I really don't want to fight."

Narcissa sniffled into her handkerchief. "You sure came here poised for one, though."

"Yeah, well, I didn't expect you to be so understanding." Draco's tone was dismissive, and he suppressed an eye-roll. It would be just like his mother to suddenly develop hurt feelings to shift the focus from her blame in their earlier conversation.

"Draco, I'm your _mother. _Of course I understand you." Narcissa looked offended, briefly, and then she let out a huff of air that might have passed for a laugh. "Alright, truthfully, I haven't understood you at all this year. Where did we go wrong, son?"

"I don't know, Mum. I don't know. Is it too late to try again?" For just an instant, Narcissa saw a glimpse of her younger Draco, a less broken Draco.

"Of course not." She patted Draco's shoulder, awkwardly. She smiled at him, hopefully. She consoled herself with the thought that maybe these choices he was making would just be a phase he was experiencing.

Eager to avoid a deterioration of the temporary truce with his mother, Draco changed topics and asked, "Can we finish the song we were playing? I've missed playing with you."

"Of course." Narcissa debated asking Draco if he would please consider visiting his father, but instead sat down at her harp and pulled it toward her. For the next half hour, Draco and Narcissa pretended that their relationship wasn't on the verge of fracturing.

**Author's Note: **Are ya'll still with me? This is my longest chapter to date! Hope it wasn't too much to read. And as always, I thank you for your feedback from the last chapters. One of my newer readers, Breanna 3593, left me a lot of points regarding character development. I tried to take that into consideration and it resulted in this chapter :) Hope I exceeded your expectations!


	25. Of Protective Big Brothers

Charlie piddled around the house after Draco left. Normally a very private man, he was surprised at how quickly he'd gotten used to sharing his personal space. His house seemed empty now, without Draco.

He glanced at the clock and decided that it was late enough in the morning to arrive at the Burrow. If he arrived to early, Molly was likely to enlist his help in preparing the house for Bill and Fleur. They had opted to have their child at Saint Mungo's, instead of in France. Charlie suspected that this was because the Delacours were not as accepting of Bill's werewolf scars as Fleur—what if the daughter got turned into a werewolf or their grandson was born furry? The end result was that Arthur had spelled on an addition to the back of the house, and Molly was filling it with a seemingly endless supply of baby things as the due date grew closer. A crib, spelled diapers, bottles—he hadn't remembered this much baby stuff when Ginny was born. Then again, he had been nine years old at the time.

Instead of Flooing, he apparated to this old bedroom. He was surprised at the amount of old memories as he looked at the old quidditch posters and Griffindor paraphernalia. He ran his finger along the spines of the books and picked up the book that had first sparked his interest in Dragons, _The Complete Compendium of Carnivorous Creatures_. He grinned when his eyes landed on the scorch marks where Ron had tried to confringo his Vratsa Vulture's poster after a particularly harsh beat-down of the Chudly Cannons. His reverie was interrupted by a loud shriek.

"Charlie! Charlie, you will be the death of me! Where are you! Why didn't you say you were coming to visit?!" He heard his mother's footsteps on the stairs and smiling, he stepped out of his room and into her hug.

"The clock rat me out?" Charlie kissed the top of his mom's head.

Molly's voice was muffled, as she spoke into her son's chest. "Yes. I never can thank my brothers enough for that gift."

"Are Bill and Fleur here, yet?" Charlie followed his mom down the stairs, her frizzy red hair out of control. Charlie was surprised at the amount of gray in her hair these days.

"No, I was going to start lunch. Want to help?"

Charlie grinned. "Like old times, eh?"

Molly sighed, "It is my sole failure as a mother that only two of my children learned to properly cook."

Charlie laughed and followed his mom into the kitchen. He sat on the countertop and asked, "What are we making?"

She brandished a wooden spoon at him, "Get down!"

"Yes, ma'am." Charlie didn't move, his tone and smile teasing.

"How about a nice roast and mashed potatoes? The roast will keep since Bill and Fleur are running late."

"M'kay. I'll do the mashed potatoes and veggies." Charlie slid off the counter and the two danced around the kitchen, working in companionable silence. He glanced at the clock—not the one that gave each family member's location, the one that actually gave the time—and silently bet that his mother wouldn't make it past five minutes before bringing up his new boyfriend.

Sure enough, his mother made it to three minutes before inquiring, "Sooo, Charlie, dear, tell me about him."

"Not much to tell, Mum." Charlie peeled another potato with the flick of his wand and levitated it into the pot of boiling water.

"Is he the reason you decided you like boys?" Molly had a furious blush, obviously uncomfortable with the idea of her son being gay, but trying to re-aproach the topic without the drama of the previous go-around.

"Men, Mum. I like men. I've known I was gay since what, my third or fourth year at Hogwarts? A long time, Mum." He reached for the bag of carrots and selected a few to rinse and peel for the roast.

"Oh. Well, so how many boyfriends have you had, then?" Molly's question made Charlie blush; they stood in the kitchen on either side of the stove blushing like mirror images. This had to be the most awkward conversation he had ever had with his mother.

"Mother!"

"I'm just trying to find out if this one is serious. I mean, why did you keep it a secret for so long?" Molly stopped rummaging through her spice rack to give Charlie her undivided attention.

"Ah. Well, this one is very serious, but I didn't meet him until I went to Mungo's." Charlie spelled a knife to cut the carrots, and sighed, knowing his next statement was going to upset his mother. "And the trip to Mungo's is precisely why I didn't tell you earlier."

Sure enough, Molly started sniffing, and before Charlie realized what was happening she had him in another hug.

"I'm sorry, Charles. I'm so sorry."

Charlie awkwardly patted his mother's back and let her sniffle into his shoulder. "S'okay, mum. S'okay."

"Why's Mum crying?" Bill's loud voice started Molly, and she turned around and grabbed her eldest around the waist.

"Nothing, dear, nothing." Charlie shrugged at Bill, who was standing in the middle of the kitchen with his mom crying into his shoulder, looking confused.

"Is this menopause?" Bill patted his mother's back the same way Charlie had, in kind of a helpless, I-don't-know-what's-going-on flutter. "I can't handle two hormonal women, Mum. Fleur's enough for me."

"Ey! Zat ees not nice, mon loup!" Fleur scolded her husband and pulled Molly into a hug. Molly huffed at Charlie and patted Fleur's pregnant belly.

"The little one is ready to come join us!"

"Oh, c'est vrai. I cannot wait, I do not know how you did zees so many times!" Fleur let Molly lead her into the den, where she sank gratefully onto the couch.

Alone in the kitchen, Bill clapped Charlie on the back. "So, how goes it? Mum obviously came around. Told you she would."

"Yeah, we had one more emotional, yelling conversation when I got out of Mungo's. You missed that one." Charlie drained the water from the potatoes and added copious amounts of butter. He added some salt and parsley and a few other spices that Bill didn't recognize, and then charmed a wooden spoon to begin stirring and mashing the potatoes.

"Doesn't mum have a special tool for mashing?" Bill watched Charlie with an expression of amusement. "I still can't believe they sent you to Mungo's, that's just…" Bill shook his head.

"If you're not going to help us cook, stuff it." Charlie hopped up on the counter again. "Anyway, yeah, so, she's come around, I think. I don't know about Dad. I think he's just hoping I'll snap out of it. Mum is being all super-nosey about my personal life now, though. Wants to know who I'm seeing and all that." Charlie rolled his eyes.

"Well, who _are_ you seeing?"

"It's not important." Bill leaned against the table and stared at his little brother until Charlie started fidgeting.

"Bill, look, you aren't going to like it when I tell you his name, and I don't want to spend the rest of the day fighting with you or trying to defend him, or whatever, so please, just, can you please leave well enough alone?"

"Oh, c'mon Char. If you don't tell me, I'll just encourage Mum's nosiness." Bill smiled smugly at Charlie.

"I'm not nosy." Molly smacked her eldest on the shoulder and moved to the stove. "Oh, Charlie! I have a special potato masher for that!" Molly looked at the bowl of potatoes with dismay. She cast a spell to stop the wooden spoon and started rummaging through the drawers.

"Told you." Bill grinned at Charlie. "Mum, I'm going to help Fleur unpack."

"Okay, dear." Molly acknowledged Bill with an absent-minded wave; she was too focused on finding the potato masher. She finally emerged from the cabinet and handed Charlie the weirdly shaped utensil. "Get off the counter. So, tell me about him, Charles. Why is he special?"

Sensing a lost battle, Charlie obliged his mother, "He's younger than me. He's going to be an apprenticed Healer in a few months, working with the potions unit at Mungo's. He's very smart, and kind, and thoughtful. And you and the rest of the family won't like him at all."

Molly turned from the stove in surprise, her brown eyes flashing dangerously. "That's not a fair thing to say! I've never even met him! How do you know I won't like him?" she exclaimed indignantly.

"Mum, it is a fair thing to say, because once I tell you his name you're going to get mad." Charlie said matter-of-factly. He licked the mashed potatoes off the spoon, and shrugged at his mother.

"Well, I'll have you know, son, he wrote me a very kind note. Completely surprised me, and made me realize that I was wrong in how I had treated you both. So maybe, Charles Septimus, you don't know everything about your dear old mum!" Molly glared, and whirled around to start opening and closing cabinet doors with unnecessary force.

Charlie felt a pressure building behind his eyes. "Mum. Mum, stop." He placed his hands on her shoulders and spun her around, "His name is Draco."

"Draco? The Malfoy kid?" Molly gaped at her son.

"Yes." Charlie braced himself for an angry reaction, and was completely surprised.

"Oh. That's nice. Isn't he a little young for you?" Her eyebrows were raised curiously.

"I know, he's a former Death Eater, but you just got to give him a chance, if you—" Charlie launched into a heated defense of Draco and then mid sentence realized what his mother had said. He spluttered in surprise, "Wait, what?"

"I said, 'That's nice, isn't he a bit young for you?'" Molly repeated herself amusedly. Once she had reconciled herself to the fact that Charlie was gay, and she'd have two son-in-laws instead of just poor Harry, she really didn't care who Charlie brought home. She knew her children would make wise choices in their serious relationships.

"Oh." Charlie jumped back up on the counter. "Yeah, I guess. He's Ron's age, but he had to grow up fast."

"Yeah, the war, I know. I forget sometimes that Ginny and Ron had their teen years ripped away." Molly flicked her wand, and the dishes flew from the cupboards to the table.

Charlie slid down the counter and ducked out of the way because the cabinet behind him smacked into him, trying to open so the cups could escape to the table. "So, that's it, no rage about the destruction the Death Eaters caused, or Fred?" Charlie watched Molly apprehensively. After the fuss his parents caused when he came out to them about being gay, he was expecting a third Great War when they found out he was seeing Draco Malfoy.

Molly stopped, and jumped up on the counter next to Charlie. She grabbed his hand and cradled it against her heart. "Charles, I trust you're going to make the best choice. If there's something you see in him, then maybe I need to give him a chance, too."

Charlie thought his mother was on the brink of tears again, but she jumped off the counter and said briskly, "I'll finish in here. Go tell Ginny and Bill and Fleur that dinner is almost ready, will you?"

* * *

Molly was beside herself to have some of her brood back at the Burrow. They crowded around the table, happily eating, and she flitted around, making sure everyone had a full plate. Charlie finally grabbed his mother's wrist on her fourth, or fifth, trip past him to the kitchen. "Mum. Sit down. We want to spend time with you, not stuff our faces."

"Oui, tell us, where are Percy, George, and Ron? Why could not zey make it today?" Fleur smiled at Mrs. Weasley.

Charlie gave an exasperated look to Bill and Ginny for their lack of support, and mouthed, "Thank you!" to Fleur. Ginny caught on, and chimed in, "Yeah, Mum, I can go get stuff from the kitchen, if we need it, but I think we're good. The roast is delicious."

"Okay." Mrs. Weasley patted Charlie's shoulder and sat down in her seat. She started to happily chatter about Percy's new job, Ron's latest adventure, and speculate on when George was going to marry Angelina. In short order the table was filled with carefree conversation. Charlie was, contrary to his earlier statement, not contributing much to the conversation because he was happily stuffing his face. In fact, he wasn't really paying close attention at all to the conversation as it flowed around him, until he heard Bill exclaim, "What the hell, Charles? Ginny's met him, and you told Mum, but you won't tell me?!"

Charlie choked on his dinner roll. He was saved from having to reply by Ginny. "Bill, does it matter, really?"

Bill crossed his arms, irritatedly. Fleur reached over and patted his hand, "Eet ees no reason to be angry, mon loup. Pas un problème."

Charlie rubbed the bridge of his nose. "No, Bill has a right to be angry. He stood by me through the Hogwarts years and kept my secret almost as long as Ginny."

Bill shot Fleur a dirty look and started to say, "See? I told you so!" but immediately shut his mouth when she glared right back at him. "Sois sage!"

"The reason I don't want to tell you, Bill, is because you already met him. He was at Gringotts, and I guess you said some things to him that were…that upset him." Charlie reached for his glass of water and took a sip.

"I what?" Bill looked at Charlie in confusion.

"He got caught up in some stuff during the war, Bill. He made some shit choices. I really, _really, _do not want to spend the rest of this meal defending him. So if I tell you, you have to promise me that you will leave it alone."

Bill pursed his lips and looked at Charlie. He could tell that this was a highly sensitive subject for his little brother, but there was a nagging voice insisting that Charlie was in a relationship that was going to hurt him. The fact that he felt he needed to keep his lover's identity hidden from the family set warning bells ringing. Instead of agreeing out-right, Bill asked, "Charlie, do you remember what happened to Pyrites at the end of your 4th year?"

"That was you?!" Charlie threw his hands up in frustration. "All the more reason not to tell you who I'm dating now!"

The three women at the table glanced between Bill and Charlie in confusion.

"My little brother got hurt. I took care of it." Bill defended his actions with a shrug.

"I can't belie—" Charlie stopped himself, not wanting to delve into a private piece of his personal history. He stood, and excused himself, "Mum, thank you for lunch. I'm going to collect a few things from my room that I'd like to take to the reserve. I'll be back in a bit." He strode out of the dining room, leaving a somewhat stunned silence in his wake.

As soon as he was out of earshot, the three women rounded on Bill. He waited for them to finish talking over each other, and then responded in a matter-of-fact tone. "His boyfriend cheated on him, so I got even with him. They found him naked and trapped on the rock in the middle of the lake after everyone left on the Hogwarts Express. The Giant Squid agreed to keep him there if I brought him shrimp from the End of Year Feast." He shrugged, again, as if to say, "It was no big deal."

Molly's jaw dropped, in shock. Ginny started laughing so hard tears ran down her face. Fleur looked at her husband, and muttered, "Le calmar géant? Mon anglais est si mauvaise? Did you say Giant Squid?"

Gasping for breath, Ginny answered Fleur, "No, you heard him right. There's a Giant Squid in the lake at Hogwarts."

Fleur primly dabbed at her mouth with a napkin. "Le calmar géant. Crazy."

"William Arthur Weasley!" Molly sputtered, so angry she couldn't even say anything more than his name.

"I'll go talk to him." Bill hastily retreated, knowing his mother was about to give him a stern dressing-down, the likes of which the twins had only rarely earned.

Bill knocked gently on Charlie's door. "Go. The Fuck. Away!" Charlie yelled at Bill. Something solid slammed against the door.

Bill opened the door and stepped inside, holding his wand defensively. "I break curses for Gringotts, you aren't about to hex me." He stopped, and put his hands up in a surrendering motion. "Just, hear me out, okay?"

Charlie was sitting on the edge of his bed. He crossed his arms and glared at his older brother.

"You're right, Charlie. I don't blame you for not telling me. I just wanted to apologize. I'm sorry. I'm sorry for what I did to Pyrites, when I knew you still were in love with him. I'm sorry I've been harassing you about telling me who you're dating now. When you're ready, you'll tell me. I'm even sorry I offended him, whoever he is, when he came into Gringotts. That's all. I'll be in Fleur's and my room for the rest of your stay, so you can spend time with Mum and Ginny without having to stifle your anger at me, okay?" Bill finished his little speech and turned to grabbed the doorknob. Charlie's voice froze him in midstride.

"Actually, Bill. When I finally got over Amin, him stranded out there…it was nice to imagine, when I need a laugh."

"You shoulda heard him yell." Bill grinned at his brother.

"It just…I hadn't thought about him in a while, and your comment brought up a lot of miserable memories."

"Sorry." Bill wasn't sure what else to say.

"I'm seeing Draco Malfoy."

Bill's eyes opened impossibly wide, and he asked, "Malfoy?"

"Yeah." Charlie glared, silently daring Bill to start another fight.

Bill was silent a minute, and then announced, "Well, tell him what I did to Amin Pyrites, and warn him it'll be worse if he hurts you. I've got a wider variety of hexes and curses at my disposal now, thanks to Gringotts." Bill turned and walked out of the room before Charlie could form a reply.

Charlie groaned, and followed his brother back down to lunch. His family was beyond frustrating some days. However, Charlie thought, he wouldn't trade them for anything. Charlie hadn't realized how badly the Mungo's incident had hurt. He was relieved that his mother was making an effort to be accepting of his lifestyle-and his boyfriend. He sat down with his family, sharing love, laughter, and improperly mashed potatoes. He smiled, content.

* * *

**Author's Note: **To the guest who left an anonymous review...If the "jizz-fest" is a reference to the explicit chapters, my apologies. I've considered taking those chapters down because I'm pretty sure this website is not as accommodating as LiveJournal or other websites, and I would hate to be banned. I did try to be as realistic as possible and yet, I didn't want the sex scenes to detract from the story. That was my initial reaction to your review, but if you were referring to Ginny, my intent with introducing various family members was to develop the character of Draco and Charlie. Charlie was raised with probably the most stable, healthy home atmosphere in all of wizardkind, and Draco obviously wasn't. I wanted to use their relationships with their families as a tool to catch a glimpse of what motivates their behavior. Also, as they deal with their families acceptance/rejection, it allows them to bond together. All of that is why I took this chapter to focus on Charlie and his family, and the last one on Draco and his mother (Draco never really resolved things, Narcissa just decided to avoid the conflict, whereas the Weasleys forgave and restored relationships)...Anyway, if you have further feedback, I'd love to hear it; I really enjoy dialoguing about my writing and what I'm trying to accomplish with the plot and characterization etc etc.

Anyway, to everyone else who's still with me: **El33ri,** Thank you for the note about the music; I grew up with musical instruments so it seemed a natural family setting to me (although my family was not dysfunctional like the Malfoys!)... I'm really not sure where the harp came from, except it just seemed like a high-society type of instrument and I can imagine Narcissa playing it. Congrats on your certification-that's a big deal :) **ladydhampir,** I'm soooo very encouraged that you like my take on this pairing. It's difficult because of those very things you've mentioned ;) Trying to keep them in character, but not so much that it ruins the story...it's been an interesting challenge for me. Anyway, fangirl away! I did, and it resulted in this story...**Bailey Michelle, **thank you :)

Lastly, I took French through my four years of highschool, but that was well over a decade ago, and I don't remember any of it! I used the powers of google-translate to assist me with Fleur...I thought it would be amusing if her pet nickname for Bill was "mon loup" or, "my wolf;" I remembered that on my own...but everything else, google. If there are any French speakers who are following my story, forgive my poor grammar.


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